Not The Daddy
by Merlin7 M.N. Talbert
Summary: A Trip to a friendly world to explore potential defensive technology turns into something very unexpected for Colonel Sheppard. Spoilers for season two![COMPLETE]
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: A trip to a friendly world to explore potential defensive technology turns into something very unexpected for Colonel Sheppard. Spoilers include anything up to The Lost Boys. If you haven't seen any of season two and don't wish to be spoiled, don't read!**

**AN: This is a WIP but we've got quite a head start so updates should come very frequently. **

**Not The Daddy**

**by Merlin7 and Kodiak Bear Country **

As Sheppard guided the jumper through the gate to Planet M44-8X8, otherwise known to the natives as Eradia, he thought about how enjoyable the next week promised to be. Sheppard had seen some worlds in the time they'd been on this side of the universe, but Eradia was one of the most peaceful, and to be blunt, it was simply beautiful.

Ronon had remembered a planet he'd encountered during his runner days. It had been the one planet that offered safe haven, but in his concern that the Eradian's defenses prove penetrable, he'd left after only a day's rest. The village leader had assured Dex that they were safe from the wraith, but Ronon didn't feel anyone was safe. If the wraith tracked him to that planet, they'd keep trying till they found a way in.

Sheppard had partially agreed. The wraith were damn persistent, and with the growing famine for their race, the need to pursue food at all costs would only get stronger. It made him wonder about the two protected worlds they'd found last year. The kids with the waning ZPM powered EMP field, and Athar's planet – Chaya, was she still killing all wraith who ventured near? And what happened if the wraith set a siege force on her world? Would she keep killing, or would the other ascended beings stop her from destroying so many just to save one world?

Too many questions, too many unknowns, but for today, Eradia remained protected, which was part of the reason they were here. Curiosity for how they did it. If a ship was in orbit, the sensors reported a dead world below. If you flew over, and looked out the window, you would see a dead world. But Eradia wasn't dead. It was one massive illusion, pulled off to such an unbelievable extent that technology or human sense couldn't penetrate the false images.

If Dex hadn't told them about this world, they would've continued to believe there was nothing there.

A blip appeared on the horizon, and Sheppard banked the jumper, aiming for the disturbance. They'd made contact last week. Sheppard's team had walked through the gate, and after going a few miles, waited, and Dex called out. He kept assuring John the Eradians were there, but McKay's snide comment about the 'wee folk' seemed appropriate. He couldn't see there being a pot of gold at the end of this particular rainbow.

But he'd been wrong, and a beautiful couple; man and woman, dressed in flowing robes so white they were almost blinding, drifted out of the wasteland, and as they did so, the world around the team rippled, wavered, and as slowly and surely as a master painter had crafted a work of art, the true Eradia was revealed. The grass was thick, lush, verdant – trees no longer stooped in withered ruin, but grew tall to the skies. The green sickly atmosphere sparkled new and clear up to the heavens.

They'd welcomed the team with muted excitement, and Sheppard had lied about where they came from. As far as the Pegasus galaxy was concerned, Atlantis, the city of the Ancients, no longer existed. It had to be that way. He didn't like it, and he knew Dex particularly didn't care for lying to these people who had offered him a haven when nowhere else could, but the military part of Dex knew it was necessary.

He set the jumper down gently, a perfect landing, and smiled smugly at McKay, who had been giving him shit about his landings since he'd taught the scientist how to fly. It galled McKay that Sheppard was better at something than he was. It didn't seem to matter that Rodney could theorize physics in laps around John; he had the need to be the best at everything. The problem with that was that Sheppard had the same drive, and so they were like two school kids, always trying to one-up the other.

"Oh please, I could've done better with my hands tied behind my back," drawled McKay.

"I'd rather you did not," Teyla said softly, sliding out of her seat gracefully, and reaching for her pack.

Sheppard kept smirking, and Rodney stood with a disgusted huff, snatching his own bag, and heading for the rear hatch.

Ronon fell in line behind Teyla, and Sheppard brought up the rear. They headed into the warm air, and started towards the village. The illusions were dropped for them, another piece of an extremely intriguing puzzle.

Was there some mental switch that the Eradians flipped for those they considered safe? How could they see it one minute, but not the next?

The cobblestone path began soon, and they followed it to the meeting place. Sheppard took the lead, and headed into the large building. They found Hamas waiting at his desk, working on their version of bureaucracy.

"Good morning, Colonel," he greeted. "Doctor McKay, Teyla, Ronon."

"Morning, Hamas," smiled Sheppard at the genuine older man. Unlike many people they'd had dealings with, the Eradians came across as real, not deceptive and secretive. "Doctor Weir sends her regards and wishes she could have accompanied us here."

"I see." Hamas set his feathered pen on the table, and rose to his feet, the white robes of his people and office billowing as he stood, instead of clinging as one would expect. "I hope all is well with your leader."

McKay answered before Sheppard could. "She's fine, logistics, you know – caring for the refugees from Atlantis keeps her busy."

Sheppard elbowed him, mouthing 'behave', before apologizing to Hamas. "I'm sorry, Doctor McKay has issues with worlds that have managed to perfect defenses that keep the wraith away. It's a jealousy thing." Mentally he added a rude comment about penis envy, and at the sharp look from Hamas, wondered if there wasn't some kind of telepathy involved with the Eradian people.

"And that is why you have come, so let us go examine the machinery of interest."

McKay's annoyance shifted to excitement. "Really? Just like that? We don't have to swear over our first born, or bleed on parchment, or anything equally primitive and medieval?"

Ronon growled, and Teyla scowled. Sheppard settled for rolling his eyes. And Weir blamed him for all the diplomatic fiascos.

But Hamas was laughing. "Nothing so drastic, Doctor McKay. This way, gentlemen," and he gestured for them to leave through a back door off to the right of the large office.

You know that saying, if something is too good to be true, it probably is – that wasn't the case with the people of Eradia. Hamas walked them into an arch, and the ground tilted at a steep angle, progressing underground at a fast rate. They followed him, Ronon growing more apprehensive at the closed in space than the rest of them, though Teyla seemed to grow more uncomfortable the farther in they went.

Soon, another archway, and they were in a wide open cavern. Consoles were worked into the rock walls, almost as if the rock had grown up and around the original machines. Hamas introduced McKay to a young woman that was monitoring a console towards the rear of the cavern.

"This is our Chief Engineer, Dreya." The woman turned away from the panel that was recessed high into the ceiling. "Dreya," continued Hamas, "These are the Lanteans that we've heard about."

Sheppard moved forward, and at the same time, Dreya tripped over a cable. They stumbled into each other instead of shaking hands, and the impact unbalanced both, sending them to the ground in a pile of twisted limbs.

John grunted, taking the full impact, trying to protect her as much as possible from the fall. He must have hit his head, because he was suddenly dizzy and nauseous. He closed his eyes to shut out the spinning sensation, and dimly heard Ronon calling his name.

OoO

"_We should take him back, and let Carson examine him," argued McKay._

"_He's fine," refuted Ronon. "Let him wake up before you sentence him to a sick bed."_

"_He's not fine!" exasperated, McKay continued, "If he was, he wouldn't be lying there senseless."_

"I'm fine," croaked Sheppard. He opened his eyes, and the room, blurry at first, slowly focused into what looked like someone's house. "Where am I?" he asked, confused. Last thing he remembered was falling, trying to keep that klutzy lady engineer from taking a header into the rock floor.

"Dreya's house," said Ronon, his massive bulk blocking the light as he hovered over Sheppard. "You were knocked unconscious by the fall." What he didn't say was how fragile the earthman was, but Sheppard could read between the lines.

"I'm not fragile," grouched John, earning him a more concerned look from McKay.

"See, he needs to see Carson, he's babbling."

Sheppard swore from the headache as he swung his feet to the floor. "I'm not babbling." God, but his head ached. "Teyla?"

"She's letting Elizabeth know there was an accident," said McKay. "And hopefully she'll send Carson since nobody seems to want to listen to me!"

"McKay, I'm fine, okay – relax, Jesus, you're making me sick by carrying on." And Sheppard wasn't exaggerating. Since he'd sat up he was feeling decidedly green. Suddenly he found himself wishing he hadn't had that second helping of scrambled eggs for breakfast.

"Sheppard, you look like hell," observed Ronon.

McKay was leaning in towards him, peering at his face. "Dex isn't kidding, you look like crap."

Oh, god, Sheppard jumped up, and tried to get out of the room. He was going to be sick, but the problem was, he had no idea where any kind of sink or toilet, or anything was, so instead he made a dash for the only door he saw. Thankfully, the Eradian's bathroom was behind it.

He leaned over what he hoped was a toilet, and not some kind of decorative statue, and emptied his stomach.

This was turning into a really shitty day.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Just a quick thanks for the reviews. I'm glad to see excitement, and hope you enjoy the double posting I'm putting up tonight. **  
**

**NOT THE DADDY...part 2**

By the time he was done emptying his stomach, John felt light-headed and shaky. He was vaguely aware of being almost carried back into the other room and laid out on the bed. He closed his eyes, willing away the still vague feeling of nausea, then blessed coolness was on his face and John opened his eyes. He blinked hard and brought into focus the concerned visage of the chief engineer.

"Colonel Sheppard, how are you feeling?" she asked.

"I've been better," he replied, not bothering to lie. He realized she was wiping his face with a damp cloth and he waved her away with a sickly smile. "Thanks." Shifting slightly, he made to sit up and regretted it when pain stabbed through his temples and his stomach recoiled again.

Dreya looked worried. "You must lie still for now," she beseeched him. "I am sorry you were...injured. But I wish to thank you for catching me."

John caught himself about to nod. He rubbed a hand over his face and tried smiling again. He was pretty sure his attempt failed. "Uh...you're welcome. But what the hell is wrong with me?" John tried sitting up again and winced. "I don't remember hitting my head."

"I heard it thud against the floor," Rodney offered, helpfully.

"Oh." John rubbed the back of his head, wincing as he found a tender spot. Which would explain some of what he was feeling. But this didn't really feel like a concussion, and he would know. He'd suffered a bad one a few years back. "You know...I think maybe we should return to...uh...home."

McKay looked relieved. "I think that's an excellent idea. As does Dr. Weir. Teyla radioed a few minutes ago and Weir wants us back home, if you're feeling up to it."

John didn't feel up to it at all, in fact he felt like shit. But he would feel better back in Atlantis, even if it meant putting up with Beckett and a night's stay in the infirmary. "Yeah...I'm good," John stated firmly, as he made to rise from the bed. He would have fallen had Ronon not caught him by the arm. Vertigo sucked the big one.

"I will carry you if you wish," Ronon offered, a half smile curving his lips. But for all that he was serious.

"Don't even think about it," John shot back. "I can walk." He hoped he was telling the truth, given the fact that his legs felt like jell-o. He locked his knees and tugged free of Ronon's grip.

Rodney moved to hover beside him. "Are you sure you're all right? Because you really don't look it. You look pale and a bit green."

John glared at him, not one of his better glares he was sure, but he gave it all he could. "Shut up, Rodney! I'm fine and we're going home! Got it?"

"Got it." Rodney nodded, looking somewhat like a bobble-head doll and backed away.

"Let's go." John took a step towards the door. "I assume Teyla is at the jumper?"

Ronon nodded. "She is."

John wished she had the gene and the ability to fly the jumper to them. But she didn't and couldn't so he would just have to buck up and walk there. So he gritted his teeth and took another step towards the door, only to find his way blocked by Dreya.

"I think you should stay and rest," she told him.

"I'm fine, really." John reached out and patted her arm, reassuringly. Only to draw back his hand when he felt a tingling in his fingertips. "Um...Will you give Hamas our apologies and inform him that we would like to return? I know that Mckay is itching to work with you on your technology."

Dreya looked like she was going to offer a protest, but then she nodded and offered a shy smile. "Yes...I will tell Hamas. And I will look forward to your return. All of you. My apologies for what happened."

John started to shrug then thought better of it. "No apologies necessary. Accidents happen. I'm fine, really." As he spoke John could almost hear Ronon thinking _fragile earthman. _For good measure, John shot a glare in Ronon's direction, feeling a ripple of satisfaction when the other man looked discomfited.

"Safe journey then," Dreya stated, including them all in her smile. Then she watched them exit her home.

"How far to the jumper from here?" John asked, as he tried to get his bearings.

Rodney was squinting at his watch. "Half an hour maybe."

John winced. "Let's get going then." He took point and headed out. By the time they reached the Jumper he had stopped twice to puke and he had accepted Ronon's arm around his waist to keep him upright. John was vaguely aware of Teyla running out to greet them and of her gentle touch as he was settled onto the jumper floor and covered with a blanket. He heard Rodney radioing Atlantis and calling for Beckett to meet them. John opened his mouth to protest but before he could make a sound he slid into darkness.

oOo

When John woke up he didn't have to open his eyes to know he was in the infirmary. He heard the soft beep of a heart monitor and felt the pull of an IV needle in the back of his left hand. The heart monitor thing surprised him a bit and he peeled his eyes open to find Elizabeth slumped in a chair next to his bed. "Hey..." John called out softly.

Elizabeth stirred, blinked hard, stared at him a moment then jumped to her feet. "John...you're awake. How are you feeling?"

"You tell me." He wasn't sure how he felt, to be honest. His head still ached and he still felt nauseous, but it wasn't as bad as it had been.

"Well...according to Carson you don't have a concussion," Elizabeth stated. "Which is good news."

John wanted to believe her but she didn't look all that happy. "So what's the bad news?" he prompted.

Elizabeth heaved a sigh and moved closer, one hand moving to pat his arm "You've been in and out of consciousness for the past 2 days. We're not sure why."

"Oh...good." John wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond to that so he stuck to flippant. He knew it would be expected of him anyway. He shifted against the pillows, wanting to sit up a bit. He was relieved when Elizabeth reached for the bed controls and raised the head of the bed. "Thanks." He coughed a bit and rubbed his throat.

"Here." Elizabeth held out a glass of water.

John accepted it, took a sip to ease his throat and as he handed it back he realized something. He had a catheter. And if that wasn't bad enough, he was wearing a hospital gown instead of scrubs. "Where's Beckett?" John demanded.

As if on cue the Scotsman appeared, a tired smile on his face. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I need to use the bathroom," he said, pointedly.

"Well...that shouldn't be an issue," Carson shot back, just as pointedly.

John felt himself flush, especially when he glanced over at Elizabeth and realized she knew exactly what they were talking about. "Um...can I talk to Beckett alone, please?" John asked.

Elizabeth bit her lip then nodded. "I'll stop by later." She smiled then headed for the door.

John then focused on Beckett. "I want the catheter out and I want to shower," he blurted out.

"The catheter I can do," Carson allowed, but I think the shower can wait till I'm sure you're up to it."

"I'm up to it," John insisted, then he shifted in the bed and made a face. His bladder was really...really...full. John waved a hand over his lap. "Can we do this like now? Please?"

Carson chuckled then nodded. "I'll be right back." He left but returned in a minute, pulling on latex gloves. "Ready?"

John wasn't but he nodded then closed his eyes. He bit his lip as he felt the blanket pulled down and his gown pulled up and then the tug and uncomfortable sensation of having a tube removed from a place where it didn't belong. John didn't realize he was holding his breath until Beckett urged him to,

"Breathe, laddie, that's it."

"Easy for you to say," John groused, even as he sucked in lungfuls of air. Then he loosened the deathgrip he had on the mattress as Beckett covered him back up. John pushed the blankets down and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Gotta pee," he reminded the doctor.

Carson pulled off his gloves after setting the tubing on the bedside table and he managed to catch Sheppard as his feet hit the floor and his knees buckled. "I've got you," he said, gripping the Colonel around the waist. He then, carefully, removed the IV needle.

John let Beckett sling an arm over his broad shoulders, but he used his other hand to hold the back of the gown closed. The trip to the bathroom felt like it took an hour. But he was finally inside and he took care of his bladder. Then he shucked the gown, Beckett be damned, and stepped into the shower. So what if he had to lean against the wall at first. By the time he had washed up he felt much better. His head still ached and he felt a bit weak, but it was manageable. Grabbing a towel, John dried off then wrapped it around his waist until he could convince Beckett to get him some scrubs.

But the scrub fairy had put in an appearance while John had been washing up, because a set of red scrubs were on the chair by the door. John put them on then stepped out of the bathroom to find Beckett standing there, tapping his foot. "Thanks for the scrubs," John said, putting on an innocent face.

"You're worse than a kid," Carson groused, then he hovered as Sheppard headed back towards his bed.

"I'm fine, okay?" John assured him. "Just hungry." He rubbed his flat stomach. "Really hungry."

Carson rolled his eyes. "Not surprising since you haven't eaten any solid food in two days. Is your stomach up to it?"

John let himself get resettled in the bed, accepting Beckett's fussing with the blankets and taking his pulse and checking his eyes before replying, "My stomach is fine. Just empty."

"All right then, I'll send for some soup and toast." Carson made to leave.

"How about a turkey sandwich?" John countered. He was way too hungry for soup and toast to have any hope of filling him up. "Make that two sandwiches. And maybe some Athosian sweet bread?"

Carson stared at him in disbelief. "I think we'll go with the soup and toast, Colonel. If you can keep it down we'll see about the sandwiches." With that statement of finality, Carson exited the room.

John sighed, watching him go, before curling up on his side and closing his eyes. Suddenly he felt very tired and he figured a catnap would be in order until Beckett returned. With a last pat to his grumbling stomach, John slid into sleep.

**THE END...of part 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**Part III**

He managed to eat the soup and toast, not only keeping it down, but asking for seconds. Beckett had eyed him incredulously, but okayed the request, and John proceeded to tuck away another bowl with ease.

"See, I'm good," said John. "Can I go? And, what time is it, anyway?"

Beckett seemed startled by his patient's rapid turn around, but he considered Sheppard, before grudgingly replying, "If you keep the food down for a couple of hours, we'll get you released, but there'll be conditions, Colonel." He flipped his wrist to look at the time piece, "It's four."

"PM or AM?" John wished the scientists of Atlantis would just give it up already and speak in military speak. No ambiguity in afternoon or morning with military time.

"Afternoon, Colonel," said Beckett.

Afternoon, and he'd been in and out for two days, which meant he had a lot of work to catch up –

"And ye'll no be going to work, but straight to your quarters, and rest for the remainder of the day, is that clear?"

"I feel fine," protested John, wondering if the good doctor had gotten the ability to read minds and kept it a secret – either that, or he really was getting predictable.

Beckett's arms had folded. "Aye, perhaps you do, but you'll still feel fine if you go to your quarters and rest, which we cannae say the same if you jump back into work and suddenly realize you no longer feel fine – if you get my meaning."

John sighed. He unfortunately did. "Loud and clear, Doc."

Two hours crept by, and John found himself feeling increasingly tired, irritable, and the nagging headache that had begun as merely a hint of discomfort had grown to full-blown ache.

"Doc!" snapped Sheppard, finally reaching the end of his patience. It had to have been two hours.

Beckett emerged from his office, looked at his watch with annoyance, and strode to Sheppard's bed. "Yes?" he drawled with exaggerated patience.

"It's got to have been two hours," prodded John.

"One and a half, Colonel."

Oh. Damn. He wanted out of here. "Look, that's got to be good enough, right? No throwing up, no queasiness, no passing out – I'm fine. Whatever was wrong, it's all better. Can I go now?"

Oddly enough, all he did want to do at this point was go to his own bed, and sleep. It was nearing six in the evening, and the thought of curling up and taking a nap was so appealing it was all he could think of – but in his own room, with privacy, quiet and no nurses hovering.

Beckett was frustrated, and John didn't think it was all due to him, but it was too his advantage because the doctor caved.

"Fine, but if you start feeling ill again, don't make me find out second-hand, and by the way, Rodney will be coming around later tonight to check on you." Beckett held a hand up and ticked off his fingers. "And Teyla around two in the morning, Ronon around six, and Elizabeth at ten. Assuming that all is well, I want you to report to the infirmary after noon."

"What?" exploded John.

"Remember, I said I'd release you under certain conditions. The conditions are you stay in your quarters to rest, and that you are checked on every four hours. We're still unclear why you were out of it for two days, and sick. We ruled out concussion, and that was about all we could do. There doesn't seem to have been any physical cause for what happened. I've no intent to let you go off and get worse under our noses."

He thought about arguing, but between the headache and the sudden realization that he really really had to go to the bathroom, his only intent was to get out of here. "You win, but this isn't necessary."

"Aye, and last I checked the diploma on the wall allows me to decide what is or is not necessary, now go, but remember what I said." Beckett gestured at the pile of clothing on a nearby chair. "And Colonel, those scheduled drop-ins, might not be so scheduled."

As Beckett left, Sheppard fought the urge to bitch about the situation, but opted instead to cut his losses and leave while he could. He got dressed, surprised at the shot of queasiness that moving caused. Oh, god, he did not feel good. Pounding head, reluctant stomach – and he really really needed to go pee.

He probably set the speed record for getting dressed, but only slid into his pants and shirt, opting to carry boots and jacket. He just didn't feel good enough to mess with it all, and why bother anyway, he was going to crash on his bed when he got to his room.

The nausea grew worse the more he walked, and by the time the door of his room came into view, he had to sprint to make it to the toilet. He threw up the remnants of soup, and toast. _Disgusting_, he thought, before rinsing his mouth. Maybe he was sick, some kind of flu, and it was doing a rebound? Taking care of his other pressing matter, he finally left the bathroom and dropped to the bed. He was so damn tired –

"Sheppard," McKay called, shaking the man gently at first but gradually harder.

John snorted, rolled and tried to bury his head under a pillow.

"As much as I'm sure you are deluded enough to believe that I enjoy the honor of checking on you, I don't, so wake up already and I'll verify to Carson that you are indeed still alive and functioning, and we can both go our merry ways."

Rodney's prodding finally had the desired effect, and John woke up, staring groggily at McKay. "Whazzit?" he slurred.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Wake up, sleeping beauty, and demonstrate that you are fully cognizant and not going to die in the next four hours."

"Time?" John was slowly becoming aware.

"Ten at night, or to you, 2200, now, if you are fine, I have other things to do." Rodney started moving towards the door, when a gagging sound caused him to turn back to John rather abruptly.

A very green John, that was making a mad dash for the bathroom.

McKay groaned. There went his plans. Sighing, he moved towards the bathroom, and trying to ignore the smell, wetted a washcloth and handed it to Sheppard, who was now getting to his feet shakily.

"Out," said Sheppard, pointing to the door.

"I'm just trying to help," he said.

"I've got to go pee, McKay, and unless you want to supervise -"

"Ah, no, I'll just be," Rodney pointed behind him, "out there."

John nodded miserably, and waited till McKay was clear before shutting the door. God, he felt like shit.

He finished, washed, and was just leaving when he caught the tail end of McKay talking on the radio.

"- he was sick."

"You didn't just call Beckett," accused Sheppard.

Rodney didn't even look abashed. "Of course I just called Carson, what do you think the entire point of my being here was about?"

"I feel fine," argued John. And strangely enough, he did, in fact, he was kind of hungry. "Hey, do you've got one of those chocolate power bars on you? Kind of got a craving -"

"No, I do not have one of them on me, are you nuts?" McKay looked at him like he'd grown three heads. "Hello, you just got done contributing more than your fair share of body fluids to the Atlantis waste system. That's ration abuse; eating when it's just going to come back up."

"No, seriously, I'm fine, hungry – but fine."

He was pulling on his boots, intent on going scavenging for food, when Beckett arrived, not even bothering to knock. The only sign that he'd been sleeping was the mussed hair and puffy eyes.

"And where would you be going?" he asked smartly, stepping to John's nightstand and setting down his medical bag.

"Food," drawled Sheppard. "I'm fine, just – overheated, shouldn't have slept in my clothes."

"Overheated?" repeated Beckett skeptically. "Sit," he ordered.

John hesitated. He did feel good. Maybe a little indigestion, but he could live with that. He locked eyes with Beckett, and knew if he left now, the only ending would be him in the infirmary.

Reluctantly, he headed back to his bed, casting an accusing glare at McKay. "What?" he snapped at Beckett, after dropping to the bed. "More blood, what – what can you possibly do that you haven't already done?"

"Lay back, Colonel, just going to do a quick test to make sure you've not gone and become dehydrated, though I doubt you are, and then an overall exam. If you pass, I'll leave and see you tomorrow."

"And if I don't?"

Beckett took a ragged breath, probably counting to ten.

"I think you know the answer."

McKay was watching casually from a distance, and John finally threw another glare his way. "You can go now," he said pointedly.

"No, no, I'm fine," waved McKay. "Wouldn't want to leave Carson without any help if we need to drag you to the infirmary, now would I." He smiled smugly.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Definitely, let's just say its payback for the 'take the stick' comment, shall we?"

Beckett took his blood pressure after he'd been lying down for about five minutes, then had him sit, and took his pressure again. He frowned at the results, and when Sheppard went to stand put out a restraining hand.

"Not yet, I've got to take another reading."

"Look, I'm hungry, I'm fine, I promise I'd tell you if I were anything but okay."

"So far, I would agree with you, but one more reading and I'll be even more certain, now sit there and shush."

McKay pushed away from the wall. "You were frowning, Carson. Isn't he dehydrated? Needs an IV – come on, there's something wrong with him!"

"You know, McKay, the stick comment only takes you so far," warned Sheppard.

"He's not dehydrated, from what I can tell so far."

"He's RIGHT here!" snapped John.

Beckett had him stand, and took another reading. He frowned again.

"Would you quit doing that!"

Carson put the cuff away and slipped the stethoscope in place over John's heart, ordering as he did so, "Sit."

Sheppard was the one to frown this time, but he did as told, albeit huffily.

A few minutes of deep breathing, and Carson stripped off his stethoscope and pulled a thermometer out of his bad, pushing it in Sheppard's ear. A soft beep seconds later, and Beckett read the display. "Normal, everything is normal – you said you feel fine?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Sheppard. "Perfectly fine, hungry even, so may I?"

"Rodney?" Carson questioned at McKay with a raised eyebrow.

McKay took a moment to catch his meaning, and when he did, his irritation climbed. "Yes, yes, fine, I've got nothing better to do – not like I'm always trying to save the city, or find new sources of power and weapons so we can fight off the life sucking menaces of the galaxy -"

"I can take care of myself," said John waspishly. "I don't need a babysitter."

"To the mess and back, nowhere else," warned Carson to McKay, ignoring Sheppard.

"You know, this is starting to piss me off."

McKay bobbed his head at Carson, grabbed Sheppard's arm, and hauled him towards the door. "I'll check in after the patient has eaten."

"The patient is RIGHT HERE!"

But, McKay was already dragging him through the door, and down the hall…

Thirty minutes later, Sheppard was sitting in front of a pile of power bar wrappers, and McKay was staring at him in stunned fascination, one bar in his hand half-eaten.

"Where did all of that go?" asked McKay, fascinated. "Seriously, I didn't think your stomach could hold that much?"

"I can eat," grouched John defensively. "I just tend to space it out more. You see how hungry you get after spending the past two days on an IV and throwing up."

If Sheppard was being truthful, he was even surprised at the amount he ate, and his stomach felt distended and unnaturally full. Great. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway? He pushed the wrappers away, and took another big gulp of water. God, he had to go pee, again!

"I'm going back to bed," he stated, standing.

"Geez, eat, sleep, puke – you'd think you were pregnant or something," snarked McKay, standing as well.

"Very funny."

"Do you think you can make it to your quarters?" asked McKay. "I actually do have somewhere I need to be."

John had the urge to remind Rodney that this wasn't his idea, but his bladder was practically screaming at him by now. Eat, sleep, puke and pee – McKay wasn't kidding, good thing he knew men couldn't get pregnant, or he'd begin to worry if Chaya hadn't left a little 'remember me' token behind. It wasn't like he was getting laid regularly in the Pegasus Galaxy, and who knows, maybe Ancient men could be mommies?

He realized Rodney had already left. God, he really really had to go pee – quarters, pee, and nap. Deal with the rest afterwards. A guy's got to have priorities…

The end…of part three


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thanks for the reviews, it was a lot of fun reading through the comments and seeing who was thinking what, and some of you were close! Here are the next two chapters that will leave you with the answers as to just what is actually happening. Shelly was the evil genius behind this plot, as she is in most of them (she's got a wicked bunny plot generator in that mind of hers). But when she sent it to me, I couldn't agree fast enough.   
**

**NOT THE DADDY...part 4**

After Rodney left him, John did head back to his quarters. He did pee. He then slipped into sweats and a tee shirt and crawled into bed. He woke up a few hours later to Teyla calling his name. He croaked a response to her then slid out of bed to dash into the bathroom. His bladder felt like it was overflowing. After peeing, John was more awake and hungry. Actually starving was a better word. He returned to his room to find Teyla still waiting for him. "I'm fine," he told her, as he stepped into a pair of old sneakers. "Just hungry."

"I can get you something to eat," Teyla replied, her dark eyes reflecting concern.

"Are you sure?" John felt tired enough to take her up on her offer.

Teyla nodded. "I am sure."

John kicked off his sneakers and curled up on his bed. "Thanks, a lot," he said, after a killer yawn that nearly cracked his jaw. He really shouldn't be this tired, but he felt like he hadn't slept at all.

"I will be back shortly," Teyla replied.

"'Kay," John countered, then he drifted back to sleep.

It felt like he had only been out for a few minutes when something heavy shook him. John's eyes popped open to find Ronon looming over him. He scampered back, realized his bladder was full...again…and almost fell off the bed in his haste to get into the bathroom. Once he had nature taken care of, John splashed cold water on his face, then he pressed a hand to his flat stomach. He was starving. Which reminded him. He must have slept through Teyla's return with food, given that Ronon was now on his shift. "This is getting ridiculous," John said to his reflection.

Heading back out to his room, he found Ronon at the table in the corner, munching on power bars. "Any of those for me?" John asked, as he moved to join the Warrior.

"I saved you a few," Ronon allowed, not quite smiling at him.

"Thanks." John sat down, grabbed a bar, peeled it out of the wrapper and took a big bite. It tasted like heaven. He finished it in three bites and opened another, which he waved at Ronon as he stated, "By the way, I'm fine. You can go now. Sorry about Beckett making you do this."

Ronon shrugged then rose to his feet. "I don't mind. I was up anyway." That said he headed out the door.

John glanced at his watch. It was six AM. So not that big of a surprise that Ronon would be up. He was usually up before now himself. Oddly though, John still felt tired. Like he hadn't slept at all. He was pretty sure now that he had some kind of Pegasus bug and it was working its way through his system. Given that he hadn't puked -- John broke off that thought to make a mad dash for the bathroom. A moment later he had puked up the power bars then he was sitting next to the toilet, feeling shaky and nauseous.

"Sonofabitch!" John cursed. He sat there until he felt stronger then he got up, brushed his teeth, then stripped and stepped into the shower. He felt damp and sick and he hoped to wash the feeling away.

Ten minutes later, dressed in a fresh tee shirt and sweats, John did feel better. And still hungry. There were still a few powerbars on the table and John ripped one open. But once he could smell it, he felt nauseous again so he tossed it aside and settled for crawling back into bed. He curled up under the covers, closed his heavy eyelids and drifted back to sleep.

This time he came awake to a soft voice repeating his name. After a time, John recognized that it was Elizabeth calling him and he forced his eyes open. "Wha..? 'M'up." He felt fuzzy headed, his voice was hoarse, his bladder was full and he was beyond starving.

Elizabeth was eyeing him with concern. "John? Should I call Carson?"

"No!" John rubbed his eyes, attempting to wipe the sleep out of them, then he was rolling off the bed. On his way to the bathroom he called over his shoulder. "I'm good. Really. Be right back." Once in the bathroom he relieved his bladder, brushed his teeth then splashed cold water on his face. He still felt tired. It was getting ridiculous. Running his fingers through his hair, which made pretty much every strand stand on end, John returned to his room to find Elizabeth pacing. He offered a tired grin. "Guess it's ten o'clock."

"I had a hard time waking you up, John," Elizabeth said quietly. "You still look tired."

He thought about lying but decided against it. "I am. A little. But I feel fine otherwise."

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest, studied him a moment, then asked, "No more vomiting?"

"Uh...no." John winced a bit at the lie. But he knew if he told the truth she'd march him down to the infirmary. All John wanted to do right now was shower then get something to eat.

"Are you sure?" Elizabeth countered.

John did his best not to fidget but he couldn't hold her gaze as he replied, "I would know if I puked."

She made a face but let it go. "Carson is expecting you in the infirmary in two hours."

"I know. I'm going to shower, get something to eat then I'll check in early." John found himself perking up a bit. "Once he clears me I'll be back on duty. Anything planned I should know about?"

"Just a meeting with Caldwell," Elizabeth replied. "The Daedalus will be here in about three hours."

John was surprised to hear that. "Oh. Um...Then I should be at the meeting."

Elizabeth's gaze narrowed, but then she shrugged. "Only if you feel up to it."

"I'll be there," John promised, because he was damned if he was going to let some stupid bug get the best of him.

"I'll be checking in with Carson to make certain he's cleared you," Elizabeth warned.

John knew she would. "No problem." He smiled, cheekily, then watched her turn and leave his room. The moment she was gone, John headed for the shower. Twenty minutes later he was dressed in his uniform and heading for the messhall. He loaded up his tray and headed for a table, spotting Teyla, off by herself, in the corner. "Mind if I join you?" John queried.

She smiled at him. "I would be honored." Her own tray was empty.

"Thanks." John sat down and picked up his turkey sandwich. "Busy later?" he asked, before taking a bite.

"I do not think so," Teyla replied. "We are on leave until you are feeling better."

John frowned at that. He hadn't thought about the fact that when he was grounded, so was his teammates. "Sorry about that. I have a check up with him after I'm done eating and I'm sure I'll clear it. I was thinking maybe we could have a practice session before supper?"

Teyla smiled and nodded. "I would like that. You have been doing well."

"I've been practicing," John chirped, feeling pleased with her praise. And he had been too. He had watched Teyla in action with her sticks, out on missions, and he knew that her style of fighting was useful. So he wanted to learn as much as he could. And there was the underlying fact that he wanted to be able to kick her butt, just once, someday.

"It shows," Teyla responded.

John nodded, then took another bite of his sandwich. It tasted wonderful. Normally he would have coffee to drink but today he had a glass of milk and he drank half the glass down, ignoring the ache in his throat from the chill of the liquid. It tasted damn good, and he hadn't been much of a milk drinker since his teenage years.

While he continued eating, John chatted with Teyla, mostly listening to her talk about her latest visit to her people on the mainland. By the time John was done eating, it was nearly eleven and he and Teyla parted ways until later. John disposed of his tray and headed for the infirmary. He felt better than he had in days. He didn't have to pee at the moment. He didn't feel as tired, and he wasn't the least bit nauseous. So far, so good.

The moment John stepped into the infirmary, Beckett was there, fussing over him. John answered all of his questions. Mostly honestly. He let Beckett take his vitals, then he assured him he felt fine. That he had just eaten a huge meal and he was ready to get back to work.

"You're still grounded for now, Colonel," Carson stated. "But you can continue your duties here on Atlantis."

"How long am I grounded for?" John asked, as he slid off the gurney.

Carson tapped his chin as he considered. "I want to observe your condition for another twenty-four hours. If you dinnae suffer any setbacks, then I'll clear you for gate travel again."

John wanted to argue with him, but he realized that Beckett was being fair. He needed to be one hundred percent before heading out on a mission. So John nodded his acceptance, then headed out. He had time before Caldwell showed up, so John decided to get some reports done. Which would make Elizabeth happy and keep her off his back at the same time. But he made a pit stop at the messhall before heading to his room. With a handful of powerbars at his disposal, John stretched out on his bed with his laptop and started typing.

Twenty minutes later he had to pee. Ten minutes after that he was sound asleep.

"Colonel Sheppard, come in please."

John jerked awake at the sound of his name in his ear. He realized it came from his radio piece and he tapped it as he sat up in bed. "Sheppard here."

Elizabeth made a sound that sounded like an exasperated sigh. "You're late for the meeting, Colonel. Is there a problem?"

"Shit!" John hissed, then clapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry...I, um...I lost track of time." He glanced at his watch and realized he was ten minutes late. "I'll be right there." John was already logging off of his report program, then he made a mad dash for the bathroom. Once again his bladder felt like it was going to burst. He washed his hands, splashed cold water on his face, combed his fingers through his hair then dashed out the door.

When he entered the conference room, John felt all eyes upon him. Luckily there weren't all that many eyes. Just Weir, Caldwell and Zelenka, who seemed to be in mid report. John realized Rodney must have sent Zelenka to fill in for him. Not surprising since John knew that Rodney was not a big fan of Caldwell's. He offered an apology as he slid into his chair. "Sorry I'm late. I got caught up in my reports."

Elizabeth was staring at him through narrowed eyes, but seemed to accept his excuse. "You'll have to catch up," she said, then she nodded at Zelenka. "Please continue.

John focused on Zelenka and tried to pay attention, but he felt himself nodding off. He shouldn't be so damn tired. It was starting to irritate him. But his eyelids wanted to close so John got up and started pacing. He did so at the back of the room so as to not disturb Zelenka's train of thought. But he was the one who was distracted, by his growling stomach. John pressed a hand to his flat belly and prayed no one else could hear it.

"Anything to add, Colonel?"

John froze when he realized he hadn't been paying the least bit attention and that it was Caldwell asking him the question. He went for a neutral expression and tried to bluff his way out. "No...nothing, sir."

Elizabeth rose from her chair. "I guess that's all then, gentleman. We can discuss that other matter in my office, Colonel Caldwell."

"Of course," Caldwell replied, as he exited the conference room after Zelenka.

"John?" Elizabeth had lingered behind.

He jumped then stared at her. "What?"

She looked concerned. "Are you sure you're all right? I know Beckett cleared you --"

"I'm fine," he interjected. "Really. Just...hungry. I'm gonna go grab a bite. You don't need me for anything. Do you?"

"No. Go ahead." Elizabeth gestured to the door.

John nodded then took off. He headed straight for the messhall and grabbed another turkey sandwich. He downed it with another glass of milk and managed to take the edge off his hunger. What he wanted now was something sweet and he had a stash of chocolate in his room. Milky Way bars. So John stepped into the nearest transporter and a few minutes later he had inhaled two candy bars. Now he was full. And sleepy. But he had practice with Teyla in about half an hour and he knew he needed to walk off some of the food. So John changed into his exercise gear, went to the bathroom, again, then he grabbed his gym bag and headed out. The walk to the gym would work off some calories. Not that he had to worry about his weight. If anything, like always, he had to worry about keeping it up so Beckett wouldn't bitch at him and Rodney wouldn't try to feed him and pretend otherwise.

By the time John reached the gym he had to pee again and he blamed it on the milk. Teyla was already there, warming up, and John dropped his gym bag and told her he'd be right with her. He then used the facilities next door. He felt better by the time he returned to the gym. "Ready to kick my butt?" John asked Teyla, as he did a few stretches of his own. Truthfully, he admired her skill, so the fact that she could best him didn't really bother him. Most of the time.

"I am ready," Teyla replied, as she picked up her sticks.

"Me too." John grinned as he grabbed his own then he moved to face her in the center of the room. They touched foreheads then took a step back and fell into a fighting stance. John watched her carefully as she made to circle around him. When she struck out at him, he was ready.

And so it went for the next twenty minutes. They moved as if in a dance, only as John made to execute a blocking move, his knees suddenly buckled as vertigo hit him without warning. He watched Teyla's form blur at the edges, then he was falling into darkness.

**THE END...of part 4**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

When John woke up, he groaned, because not only was McKay leaning over him staring worriedly, but so were Teyla and Beckett. Triple jeopardy. And, he was back in the infirmary.

"This sucks," he admitted tiredly.

"Aye, I'm sure it does," answered Beckett. "Now, would you like to be telling me why you thought fighting with Teyla was wise?"

"I feel fine!" And if he hadn't turned five shades of puce, and bolted for the bedside table two beds over, where a stainless steel emesis basin was sitting, he probably would've been believed. Unfortunately, throwing up in front of everyone spoiled the effect he was going for.

McKay looked a little green, and even while he moved to help Sheppard, he was fighting to not breathe in. "Carson, you've got to stop this. What is wrong with him? I mean, really," he handed John the rag he'd gotten wet, "he's peeing like a middle aged man riddled with kidney stones, throwing up if he blinks the wrong way, or worse, if any of _us_ blink the wrong way, and eating ten times the normal amount at one sitting -"

The room fell dead quiet as three minds processed the implications of McKay's statement. Sheppard straightened, the only one not getting it, and washed his mouth out with a cup of water Teyla had handed to him after he'd wiped his face with the rag McKay had provided. He looked at the three people suddenly staring at him with a mixture of surprise, and suspicion.

"What?" he snapped, moving back to the bed, handing the basin over thankfully to a nurse…and speaking of peeing –

"Oh my god, he's knocked up!" exclaimed McKay. Rodney was rapidly changing from consternation to accusation. "It was Chaya, wasn't it? I knew she was just an intergalactic slut, and look what she did – Carson, did you know that they could do that?"

Teyla was assessing Sheppard carefully and she dipped her head slightly in Rodney's direction. "I believe Doctor McKay may be on to something. The women I have known to be with child have acted thusly, including fainting during work-outs."

It was only when Beckett didn't pipe up with the biological fact that men can't be pregnant, that Sheppard got annoyed. "I'm not pregnant!" he stated. "Men don't get pregnant, and besides, what Chaya did wasn't the kind of thing that'd get anyone pregnant, in the conventional, physical, human kind of way."

Beckett was still staring at him with far too much considering going on, but he slowly agreed. "I have to agree with Colonel Sheppard. Besides, if it had been Chaya, he would've shown symptoms before…or, at least, I think he would've."

"It's just a stomach bug I picked up somewhere," said Sheppard absently, thinking if he could get out of here, he'd have enough time to run by the mess and get a bowl of that blue Jell-O. For some reason, that sounded inordinately good right now, in fact, he was convinced it'd settle his stomach. "You know, I feel fine now, could I go – kind of hungry, and the mess should be serving dinner about now."

"Okay, that does it, Carson, run a pregnancy test, RIGHT NOW," demanded McKay.

Sheppard stood up, and wavered woozily, and Rodney leaped forward, easing him back to the bed. "I'm not pregnant," he murmured helplessly. But, he was beginning to wonder just what was going on.

Carson had moved to John's side, and helped tuck him back in bed. He tried to smile reassuringly, while sniping at Rodney. "The Colonel is not pregnant, Rodney, but we do have something we can investigate."

"Doctor?" Teyla asked looking at him curiously.

"His symptoms began after he aided the female from Eradia, correct?" At Teyla's nod, he continued, "therefore, since our tests show nothing, and he continues to show symptoms of some type of illness, we need to return to Eradia and speak with Dreya, see if maybe she wasn't ill before their contact, or maybe has fallen ill since."

Sheppard thought that was the best idea all day. He was more than ready to start getting back to normal. "Now that makes sense," he affirmed. "Get Weir on the comm, and lets get this ball rolling -"

"Not you, Colonel."

Beckett had uttered it with conviction, but Sheppard wasn't willing to take it lying down. Which was precisely why he stood, and had to make another bolted dash towards something to throw up in – again.

McKay sidled closer to Teyla, and murmured to Carson. "Right, I'll just, umm, get right on that." He backed towards the door and added, "in person."

While Beckett moved to aid Sheppard, Teyla joined McKay at the door and agreed. "I will accompany Doctor McKay, as well."

John was dimly aware of the door closing behind them, before he was caught up in another bout of dry heaves. And through it all, the pervading thought running through his mind was just how much this whole situation sucked –

OoO

Elizabeth had okayed the mission back to Eradia, and though Sheppard wasn't being allowed to return with them, McKay had gotten the okay to take Ronon, Teyla and Carson. He'd debated on forcing the issue for haz-mat suits, but judging from Carson's harried features, he decided perhaps he shouldn't push things.

He banked the jumper, sending Ronon slumping against the bulkhead against his right side.

"You sure Sheppard taught you how to fly this thing?" Ronon asked skeptically, straightening as the jumper straightened.

"Yes, he taught me to fly this 'thing', and it's called a 'Puddle Jumper', learn the terminology."

Ronon's eyebrow arched, and he scanned the ship measurably. "Puddle jumper?"

McKay looked away from the view, and commiserated with Ronon. "Yes, I know, silly isn't it? I tried to talk them out of it, of course -"

"Rodney, fly the bloody ship!" bellowed Beckett as the jumper began to list toward the ground because of McKay's distracted conversation.

"I am flying the bloody ship!" snapped McKay, facing forward sharply, nerves on edge. "Why don't you worry about your job and I'll worry about mine!"

"That's fine, but I can't do my job if we crash," grouched Beckett.

"Doctor, is it much further?" interrupted Teyla, pointedly glancing a look at Ronon. McKay and Beckett sniped almost more than Sheppard and McKay, and Teyla was in no mood to listen.

"Not much further at all," said McKay, pulling up the jumper before stopping, and gently lowering to the ground. "In fact, here we are." He announced it with a satisfied air. He could fly the jumper just fine, as long as he wasn't being chased by wraith or some other bad guy intent on killing him –

"Are they expecting us?" Teyla asked as she secured her vest, before turning to Beckett and helping him with his kit.

"No," said McKay. "I didn't think to call ahead – of course, they're expecting us. You know, I am perfectly capable of managing when Sheppard is incapacitated."

Ronon clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder. "I'll be sure to tell Sheppard that."

McKay stood for a minute, trying to figure out if Ronon was actually pulling his leg, and he saw the three exit the jumper and walk towards the building that he recognized as Dreya's. "Hey!" he called out, scrabbling after.

By the time he'd caught up, having to pause long enough to close up the rear hatch and secure the ship, they were seated in Dreya's home, in what equated to a living room, on fabric covered benches. Beckett was explaining Sheppard's symptoms to Dreya, and McKay noticed that Hamas was present as well.

Dreya was shooting nervous looks at the other Eradian, and Rodney narrowed his eyes at the surreptitious behavior, before dropping down on the only opening left, next to Ronon. Dex glared, and McKay forcibly pushed against the bulk of the man, trying to get enough space to sit.

"- as you can understand, we were hoping maybe you'd be able to shed light on the Colonel's illness," finished Carson.

Dreya had grown increasingly uncomfortable, and her reaction had become apparent to everyone in the room. Teyla was looking at her coolly, Ronon – heatedly, and Beckett confused.

"I see you do know," said Beckett softly, giving her an opening to explain.

The woman shifted awkwardly, and reached for Hamas's hand. "Yes, Doctor Beckett, as you have correctly surmised, I do know what is affecting Colonel Sheppard."

"I don't believe this!" exploded Rodney. "Why? What is it about him that paints a target for all the alien women to come screw with him?" McKay was angry. Sheppard was his friend, and basically it boiled down to only him having carte blanche to getting John in drek up to his neck, and no one else, in fact, it pissed him off when others messed with Sheppard. "You know, he tried to help you, and whatever you did, you're going to fix it. Now."

Ronon was looking at him bemused by his outburst, but Beckett and Teyla appeared ready to applaud. Sometimes Rodney's politics were appropriate.

But Dreya was already shaking her head sadly. "I'm afraid there is nothing I can do."

McKay paled, and the anger drained from his face – "Nothing?"

"I'm afraid it is permanent," said Hamas. "It is the way of our people. Dreya didn't mean to – it's just, when your Colonel grabbed her, she sensed the code and -"

"What?" Beckett asked sharply.

"Code- the ATA gene," surmised McKay. "But what does that have to do -"

"A month ago, my husband was killed in a culling. I had no one to bond with, and when I sensed the code in John, I couldn't…I'm sorry," she broke off, turning her face away.

Teyla was the gentle spirit on the team, and she got up, moving over towards Dreya, and taking the woman's hands away from her face. "You bonded with Colonel Sheppard?" she prodded carefully.

Dreya nodded miserably. "It is the way of my people. When a woman bears a child, she bonds with her mate, sharing everything as the child grows -"

"Oh my god, I was right!" interrupted McKay. "He's been knocked up!"

"Shut up, Rodney!" snapped Carson. He turned his attention on Dreya. "I'm not following you, lass, what do you mean by bonded? And do you mean to tell me that Sheppard got you with child?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, the child, it is my Beren's. I found out only a day before he was taken by the wraith. He was trading on another world, and they came - we only found out when a survivor managed to gate to our world, and explained about the devastation. They'd taken almost everyone on Rotalde. Men, women and children, not even leaving enough people to survive alone. Beren had begged people to bring the news to me if he wasn't able to escape." Dreya's voice trembled. She looked as horrified as she did grief-stricken. "Do you know that out of fifty others he confided in with our world's address, only one made it here? Only one person escaped."

The silence in the room was solemn. Everyone there understood the devastation that the wraith could incur. But, that's not why they were back on Eradia this time. The defensive technology had brought them here, but now Sheppard's condition was taking precedence.

"Then, this bonding, does it normally make men ill?" Beckett was trying to make sense of the unexpected turn of events.

"It can," said Hamas. "Especially at first. A woman's body has had more time to adjust to the life growing within – the bonded mate may experience exaggerated symptoms at first, but they recede more to a typical level soon after the bond has been created."

"Okay," said Carson, holding up a hand to forestall other interruptions. "Let me see if I've got this straight – Dreya is…with child, and her mate was killed, so when she sensed Colonel Sheppard's ATA gene – this code, she bonded him, and this means that he experiences what she experiences?"

Dreya nodded.

"And how long does this bond last?" Beckett asked sharply. His doctor hackles were raised at the thought of an innocent man being harangued into this arrangement.

"Till the child is a full moon's age."

Ronon jumped to his feet, and approached Dreya, who flinched away, seeing the menacing look on his face. "Your actions were wrong," he said bitterly. "Forcing a bond such as this on someone you do not even know. Lucky for you, Sheppard is a better man than most. He likely will not kill you." He'd been close – a hand's distance, and pulled back, casting one final disgusted look at her before adding, "I probably would've," before stalking out the room.

Ronon's strong reaction surprised McKay, and he coughed, before standing quickly, saying, "I'll be, uh, waiting with him."

McKay found Ronon fuming at the jumper. "What was that about?" he snapped. "Because that was rude." Hello pot, this is kettle, but rudeness in others was easier to recognize and find inappropriate then when it came from him. His rudeness was always warranted – well, almost always.

"She took advantage of him," said Ronon, not even turning to face him. "Forced him to experience child bearing, and a bond of mates." Ronon's voice quavered. He turned finally, looking at Rodney, and McKay was shocked by the savage twist in the man's features. "Do you know how sacrilegious such an act as this is on my world?"

"But it's not," said McKay reasonably.

Ronon's brow furrowed in consternation at the physicist. "Not what?"

"Not your world, not your planet, and not your people – and maybe that's what's really eating at you." McKay stared him down. "I mean, what she did pisses me off also, but let's face it, the joke opportunity just sky rocketed, Sheppard pregnant – this is going to be fun."

And honestly, it kind of was. He couldn't wait to see the look on Sheppard's face when he found out – and maybe he could be the godfather? Godfather to a little alien baby – they were going to have to bring Dreya to Atlantis, keep her safe, and all that stuff, and give her decent medical care for her pregnancy.

"Yeah, maybe, but she was still wrong," persisted Ronon stubbornly. "No man should have this forced on him without agreeing."

"Hmmmm," asked McKay, still wondering if he could be godfather to a baby that wasn't even technically Sheppard's baby, but hey, if he had to experience it all, didn't that give him some rights? By proxy, maybe –

"McKay," growled Ronon. "You are not listening."

"Sure I am, you think Sheppard was basically raped, and I think the whole thing is rather funny, does that sum it up?"

Dex cuffed McKay on the back of the head. "They're leaving, let's go."

"Hey!" yelped Rodney, rubbing the back of his head, but looking over his shoulder, he could see Carson and Teyla heading their way. Dreya wasn't with them. No, no no no, where was she? They couldn't leave her behind…

"Where is she?" he snapped at Carson when he got within earshot.

"She wouldn't agree to coming back with us." Beckett's face was wreathed in frustration.

"Ronon, go, fetch, bring pregnant woman back," he ordered.

Ronon smiled again, a flutter of amusement breaking through his earlier anger, and he looked at Teyla for further direction. She shook her head, and gestured at the hatch.

"We should return, Doctor McKay, we have much explaining to do."

He stared at each one in turn, dumbfounded that they'd actually leave without the woman, but no one seemed to share his concerns. "Fine," he hissed. "But I'm telling you, Sheppard's going to say the same thing when we get back, and you can explain to him why you left without her!"

He huffed, and opened the hatch, and stomped in, not even looking to see if they followed –

The End…of part five


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Okay, here's the thing, I'm sitting here with free time on my hands so I'm going to get the remaining parts uploaded tonight, but then you all will be reduced to wait on current updates (these are all parts that have been finished for a while, I'm just going through and editing then posting). I was trying to space it out because I thought we might finish before the postings caught up, but, well, this fic is going to be a long one so I'm going to go ahead and get everything posted and quiet.**  
**

I'm thrilled to see that people are getting into the spirit of the fic, because we're trying to do something unique with the pregnancy angle, and have some fun, but there'll be drama also. Anyway, I think you'll really enjoy these next four parts!

**NOT THE DADDY...part 6**

John was in his room, having charmed his way out of the infirmary. The pretty blond nurse, Alicia, was a sucker for his smile every time. Usually, John wouldn't manipulate her into letting him out, but he was bored in the infirmary and since he felt fine now, he had been desperate to get something to eat and to shower. He had stuffed himself with blue Jell-o, some toast, and two glasses of milk. Now he was clean from a shower and had just finished dressing, with the intention of lacing on his boots, when his doorbell chimed.

"Come in!" John called out, as he sat down on the side of the bed. He watched the door open and, to his surprise, it was Weir, followed by his teammates and Doctor Beckett. "You're back already?" He stood up and studied the expressions on the faces of his friends. They looked unhappy for the most part, although Rodney looked a touch amused as well. "Um...I'm not dying or anything, right?" John prompted, when everyone else remained silent.

"No...you're not dying," Carson was quick to assure him. He cleared his throat then looked at Weir, as if willing her to be the one to continue.

Elizabeth shook her head at Beckett.

John watched them then blurted out, "Well, somebody tell me what's wrong with me!"

"You are bonded." It was Ronon who replied.

"Bonded?" John frowned then shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

Teyla picked up the story. "When you touched Dreya, she sensed the ATA gene and she...bonded...with you. She meant no harm."

John was more confused than ever. He looked to Beckett for Clarification. "Okay...is that even possible? For someone to sense the ATA gene?"

"Apparently so," Carson replied, moving towards Sheppard and pushing him to sit back down. "I believe Dreya is somewhat empathic. It is a gift that many of her people have." That said, Carson's expression tightened and his voice was stern when he asked, "Aren't you supposed to be in the infirmary, where I left you?"

"Uh...yeah, I guess." John shrugged. "I felt fine and I was hungry, so I left. Don't blame Alicia."

Carson sighed. "I don't. I blame you. So...are you feeling all right? No more vomiting?"

John winced. "Not since you guys left. So...what's wrong with me then? I'm guessing Dreya must have some kind of bug, or something. What is it?"

"She's pregnant!" It was Rodney who burst forth with that gem of information. He was rocking on his heels and his eyes were bright with amusement.

"Pregnant?" John echoed, then he looked at Beckett. "What's that got to do with anything?"

Carson sighed and patted Sheppard on the shoulder. "Long story short. Dreya is pregnant and her mate was killed a month ago, just after they found out. Among her people, when a woman gets pregnant, her mate shares the bond. In other words, he experiences the pregnancy right along with her."

John mulled over what Beckett was saying and he did not like the conclusion he reached. "Are you telling me I'm having sympathetic pregnancy symptoms?"

"Aye...that's what I'm saying," Carson allowed, and he looked apologetic.

"That's insane! It's not possible!" John jumped up and started pacing then he glared at Beckett. "It's not possible, right?"

Carson shrugged and spread his hands. "Apparently...it is."

John felt his knees buckle and he sank back down onto the bed. "Oh god." He buried his face in his hands until he felt a touch on his shoulder. He looked up to find Teyla smiling at him.

"You must look at this as something wonderful, Colonel. You will experience something most men will never know or understand." He eyes were soft and glowing as she spoke, as if she truly believed this to be a wondrous thing.

"Men aren't supposed to understand this," John muttered, hearing a bit of whining in his tone. But he couldn't help it. He was tired and cranky. He had to pee again and his stomach was starting to feel off. "How long is this going to last?" He asked Beckett.

Carson made a face. "Until the child is a full moon's age."

John was stunned. "Are you kidding me? No! No way! I can't do this that long! How am I going to do my job if I have to stop to puke every five minutes when I'm out in the field?"

"You won't be going through the gate for a while, John." It was Elizabeth who spoke. She looked unhappy, but determined. "We can't risk it and you know it."

"That's not fair!' John was on his feet again and in her face. "I didn't ask for this! Dammit!" He could see she was undeterred by his anger and he didn't' blame her. He knew he couldn't go out in the field like this. He couldn't put his team at risk. Swallowing down his anger, John turned to Beckett. "Isn't there some way to make it stop? Can't they break the bond?"

Carson shook his head. "Sorry...there's nothing they can do. It's permanent once you're bonded. We asked."

John wasn't ready to give up that easily. "Can't you give me something? Shots? Anything?" He wasn't happy when Beckett shook his head at him. John opened his mouth to make another protest but closed it and clamped a hand over it, then he shouldered Beckett aside and made a mad dash for the bathroom. He barely made it in time to throw up everything he'd just eaten, and then some. He was dimly aware of strong hands on his shoulder and something cool and damp on the back of his neck. John was shaking by the time he was able to ease away from the toilet. He closed his eyes and felt the cool wetness on his face.

"Feel better?" Carson asked.

"No." John felt miserable and he saw no reason to lie about it. He peeled his eyes open and accepted the cup of water and mouthwash that Carson held out. He rinsed, spit, and handed it back. "I can't do this for nine months."

Carson helped Sheppard to his feet. "Seven months now. She's two months along."

John was not appeased. He let Beckett help him back to his room and he was surprised to see that everyone else was gone. He let himself be pushed down onto the bed and covered up. But even as he relaxed back against the pillows, a horrible thought hit him. He gripped Beckett's arm, fingers digging into the man's flesh, as he asked, "Does this mean I'm going to feel her giving birth?"

"Um...well...uh..." as Carson stalled he tried prying Sheppard's fingers off his arm. Once he had the Colonel's hand pressed back onto the blankets he stated, "Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Oh god..." John whispered, before making another mad dash to the bathroom.

oOo

For the next twenty-four hours, everyone left John alone. Except for Beckett. He checked on the Colonel, with Alicia's assistance, and for the most part John ate, slept, peed and puked. He was not a happy camper. But after that miserable period of time, he felt better. Good enough to get up, shower, dress and make his way to the messhall.

Rodney was sitting at a corner table, but he barely looked up when John set his tray down. However, he did mutter around a mouthful of food, "You're not going to puke on me, are you?"

"That depends," John replied, grinning. "Are you going to make fun of my...condition?"

Rodney's head shot up, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What makes you think I would do that?"

John shrugged as he reached for an Athosian sweet roll. "Cause I'd do it to you."

"Figures." Rodney couldn't quite hide a grin. "You have to admit, aside from your disgusting tendency to puke every five minutes, this is pretty funny."

"Hysterical," John deadpanned. "Course, it would be much funnier if it were happening to you."

Rodney scowled at him. "It's fortunate for you that I'm far more mature than you are, Colonel."

John choked on a bite of the sweetroll, but waved at Rodney to let him know he was fine, when McKay jumped up in a panic. John swallowed down the bite with a swig of milk then said, "Since when have you been mature?"

"You are the only person that brings out childish tendencies in me, Colonel." Rodney looked offended as he spoke. "You're rubbing off on me in a bad way and I would thank you to stop doing so."

"Right," John drawled. He knew that Rodney enjoyed their bantering as much as he did. That he even enjoyed their explorations together. John was going to miss that. For the next seven months. Which reminded him of the whole _giving birth_ thing. Which made him feel queasy, so he pushed aside his tray. "Um...I'm going to go check in with Elizabeth. I might not be able to go out in the field, but I can still do my job on base. See you later, Rodney." That said, John jumped up and dumped his tray before heading to the gate room.

Once there he cornered Elizabeth in her office. John convinced her that he could still do his job on base, and he had her half convinced that he might even be able to go out in the field in a month or so. Beckett had stated that the symptoms should ease up, considerably, in a month or two.

Elizabeth didn't look happy, but she nodded. "If Beckett clears you in two months, then we'll talk about it," she allowed. "Until then, you're stuck on Atlantis which gives me an idea."

"What idea?" John countered, suspiciously.

"I'd like to teach you how to read Ancient," Elizabeth replied, a smile quirking the corners of her mouth.

John frowned at her. "Why?"

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and locked eyes with him. "Why not? You're the one who has the strongest gene, John. The closest to the Ancient of this evolution. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to read your ancestral language?"

"You're pushing it, you know," John shot back, but he was a little bit intrigued by the idea. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to learn. Is it anything even close to reading French?"

"Not really," Elizabeth replied. "Why?"

John shrugged. "Because French I know."

Elizabeth's left eyebrow shot up to her hairline. "You speak French? It's not in your file."

"That's because I didn't learn it officially. I had a friend whose grandmother was French. Straight over from Paris. She taught us both and then I had a girlfriend and, oh--" John broke off with a gasp, doubling over in his chair.

"John, what's wrong?" Elizabeth was on her feet and at his side in a heartbeat.

He didn't' answer for a moment. He was too busy trying to curl up into himself as pain cut into his abdomen. "I...I think...something's wrong with Dreya. The baby." John felt himself break out into a cold sweat just before he toppled out of the chair.

Elizabeth caught him and eased him to the floor, then she tapped her ear piece. "Dr. Beckett! I have an emergency in my office. Colonel Sheppard is down!"


	7. Chapter 7

AN:Dr. Dredd, I have to laugh at your review. There was a point around the third month where I was in tears asking myself why I'd ever EVER wanted to have a baby when I was pregnant with my first. Hugging the toliet every morning for a few months will do that to you. And I'd gone into it wanting the whole experience, so imagine what John must be feeling, poor man.

And, really, I'm just so touched with the reviews. There are so many wonderful comments and I find myself laughing and smiling, and being touched by it all and I know Shelly's the same. Belisse, Laura-Trekkie, Linnzi, rogue, nebby, highonscifi, Lilas, purpleyin, red tigress, Labrat, sheppardster, Jules, Titan, Harper's Pixie, MacArtney, parisindy, LTwill, Puddles - gosh I hope I got everyone. Thank you thank you thankyou!

**Not the Daddy…part 7**

John was only vaguely aware of being lifted to a gurney and reassuring hands on his shoulder as the pain ripped at him inside of his gut. "What's happening?" he moaned, not understanding what was causing this newest symptom. He'd been sick, but nothing like this before now.

Beckett's worried face breeched his line of vision, as blurry as it was, from him squinting his eyes against the pain. "I don't know, son. It might not even be your pain."

Suddenly, Rodney's breathy voice bumbled into Sheppard's senses. "What's wrong with him? I heard the call on the comm -"

A shot of lightening vibrated through John in a moment of clarity that startled him long enough to catch a breather from the coursing pain. Trying to get his thoughts across while he could, he gasped "The baby! Something's wrong with the baby."

He couldn't remember saying it earlier, nor did he recall Beckett only seconds ago saying that the pain probably wasn't his own. He was too lost in the stabbing hurt that had become his world.

John fumbled for McKay's arm. "Get Ronon, bring her back." He struggled to catch his breath as another sharp pain curled in the pit of his belly, causing him to double over on his side, cradling the source of the agony, and crying out. "God damn it!" He shouted the anger aloud. This wasn't his baby, this wasn't his fault. He didn't do anything, but he was suffering anyway, and it was starting to piss him off. He felt like the lion with the thorn in his paw, except this hurt a heck of a lot more than a thorn.

McKay hesitated, staring uncertainly at Sheppard's form writhing on the bed, trying to escape the pain he was in. "And what good is that going to do?" he asked, having to break back into a slow jog as the techs wheeled the gurney around the corner and angled for the infirmary door.

"If something is wrong with the baby, we need her here," snapped Beckett. "Maybe we can help, but if anything, we need to know what this bond will do under the worst of situations, Rodney."

"Worst of situations?" echoed McKay sarcastically. "If she loses the baby, then Sheppard's free, what's bad about that?"

"And if she is bleeding internally, and dies, what about Sheppard?" Carson asked hurriedly, while taking Sheppard's shoulders and lifting him to the exam bed as the techs moved his legs. "Did you think of that?"

From the sudden lack of color in McKay's face, John figured he hadn't. For that matter, neither had he. Another knife-edge sharp pain twisted him into a ball, and he pushed one hand at McKay, while holding the other against the pain. "Go!" he urged weakly.

"Easy lad, we're going to take care of you," promised Beckett.

He felt his arm being tugged straight and felt them prepping for an IV line, while someone wiped the gathering beads of sweat from his forehead. He was practically panting from the pain, and could feel the strands of his hair sticking to his head. Finally, he was lost in it, and he felt himself falling into darkness…

oOo

McKay had radioed Elizabeth and filled her in on what had happened since they'd rushed Sheppard from her office. He'd no sooner finished then she ordered him to go, which brought him to where he was now. He'd flown the jumper haphazardly, earning worried glares from Ronon and Teyla. He'd huffed something along the lines of 'any landing that you walk away from is a good landing' and stormed out of the rear hatch.

Beckett had brought up a side of the bond that he hadn't considered, which only made him more irate. Why didn't he anticipate the severity of the bond? He'd been so wrapped up in the humorous side of Sheppard's predicament that he hadn't used his brains to realize all the ramifications, and he always used his brains.

Dreya's people weren't totally third world, but who could say how advanced their medical capabilities were. What was the mortality rate for expectant mothers? What would serious complications do to Sheppard? If John was any indication, something was very wrong with the baby.

Striding up to Dreya's house, he raised his hand to knock, pulling back in surprise when his knuckles came down against air as the door was yanked open.

Hamas stepped forward, latching on to McKay's arm and pulling him around.

"Hey!" Rodney managed to protest being manhandled.

Ronon and Teyla took a threatening step towards the Eradian.

"You are here because of the bond. Dreya began to bleed an hour ago, and is in great pain. She's been taken to the medical center. You wish to go to her?" He rapped out the words without slowing, still pulling McKay along, which in turn pulled Ronon and Teyla as they followed, albeit by less physical tethers.

"The baby?" asked Teyla from behind McKay.

Hamas shook his head sorrowfully. "We don't know, but when I left to come here and wait for your arrival, the midwife said the situation was dire."

"Take us to her," ordered Ronon.

The rapid pace to the medical center had McKay breathing hard. They entered an arched doorway, and a friendly older woman looked up from a scarred wooden desk. Her lips tightened when she saw who had arrived, and merely pointed down the hallway.

Hamas jerked his head, and guided McKay in that direction. "You should have brought the other…Sheppard," he finally spoke, admonishing them.

"He collapsed in pain, Hamas," Teyla said tightly. "We did not know the nature of his condition."

"Besides, I wouldn't hand over my cat to your medical science," bitched Rodney. "We're taking Dreya back with us, like we should've last time." He glared pointedly back at Ronon and Teyla.

Hamas remained quiet, but the scowl wasn't lost on McKay. He stopped at a door, and pushed it open slowly, peeking in. Whatever he saw must have been okay, because he pushed it open the rest of the way and waved them in.

Even McKay was hit by the seriousness upon seeing Dreya. She lay sallow faced and drawn in a bed, her skin as white as the muslin sheets. She was awake, but clearly despondent.

Rodney wasn't any good in comforting people. Look what happened to Gall – he'd been so good he'd all but held the gun to Brendan's head. He looked forlornly towards Teyla, silently urging her to step forward and handle this.

Teyla didn't need the urging. Being leader of her people had required a natural empathy for others, and it surged to the surface at the sight of the stricken woman. "Dreya, we are sorry about the baby," she whispered, moving closer and sitting stiffly in a chair near the front of Dreya's bed.

Dreya remained stone-faced, staring at the ceiling.

"If there's anything we can do?" added Teyla sympathetically. Women in her village had lost babies, and she knew the grieving took time. Mothers would speak of the empty ache even months, years, after the loss. A hole in their hearts that nothing could change.

The Eradian woman didn't look, but began to speak, quietly. "I must be with Sheppard. The loss must be dealt with together, or he could die."

The severity of her warning would've called for emotion. Something. But, she remained emotionless, as if already dead.

Gently, Teyla reached for her hand, and held it. "We'll take you to him." She turned to Hamas and asked, "Can she travel?"

Hamas shrugged. "I'll ask the midwife." He slipped out the door, leaving awkward silence in his wake.

Rodney moved over towards Ronon, feeling very uncomfortable and wishing they were back, but at the same time feeling the first real edges of regret. What a mess, he thought with annoyance. It had seemed funny, even inconvenient, but now more than anything it was depressing. He didn't want this woman's last connection to her dead husband to be gone. He didn't want her to hurt, and he didn't want Sheppard to die. This sucked.

Ronon looked barely civil. McKay glanced at Teyla, and made a decision. "We're going back to the Jumper. We'll fly it here, so she can be moved easily."

Teyla nodded, and went back to murmuring to Dreya. McKay couldn't make out the words, but whatever she was saying, it seemed to be breaking through, because he could see Dreya's face beginning to crumple.

"Let's get out of here," McKay grunted abruptly, pulling at Ronon's arm. At the lidded look, he dropped his hand, and stalked out the room; let the brute follow if he wanted.

Apparently, Ronon did, because as McKay breeched the door, the man was right behind. Once they were out in the street, Rodney tried to defuse the growing heat he could feel radiating from the bigger man. "It's not her fault." Rodney couldn't believe he was defending her.

"It is," argued Ronon. "She shouldn't have done that to him. Now he's in danger."

"Come on," snapped McKay. "Sheppard thrives on danger. Most people eat their Wheaties, but not Sheppard. He scarfs down danger like it's his last meal."

"Wheaties?" echoed Ronon imperturbably.

McKay stopped and made a small square with his fingers. "It's a cereal on our planet. Dry, full of healthy stuff, tastes like crap," he dropped his hands in disgust. "Just…forget it. The point being Sheppard isn't pissed at her, so you shouldn't be either."

"If Sheppard didn't mind being a meal for the wraith, would you mind?" Ronon rumbled back.

McKay rolled his eyes and his head, before fixing a dirty look on Ronon. "That's not the same thing."

"Sure it is." Ronon said simply.

Rodney threw his hands up and retorted, "No, it's not."

"Yes it is."

Ronon had this annoying habit of acting like a mountain. You knew you could shove and argue and talk till you were blue in the face, and you wouldn't move the Satedan. And maybe…maybe he was partially right.

Irritably, McKay let his hands drop, and turned back towards the Jumper. "Let's just get her back to Atlantis and save Sheppard's life before we go and try to worry about the psychological side. I'm not a shrink, and neither are you. Leave that mind stuff to the experts."

Ronon followed, and though the edge of his anger seemed blunted, he still hounded McKay all the way back to the ship.

"On Sateda we had to learn about the mind as well as the body, isn't it that way for your people?"

Rodney flexed his jaw and hoped that some day Sheppard would be alive to thank him for this…

oOo

The trip back to Atlantis was as depressing as the whole situation. Dreya had broken out of her emotionless state and wept in Teyla's arms for most of the short flight. Hamas had threatened war between their people if anything happened to Dreya and Ronon promised Hamas that it went both ways. If Sheppard died, the Eradian people would regret ever knowing the people of Atlantis. McKay had the distinct impression that he'd lost control.

A medical team greeted the Jumper, and Teyla helped Dreya onto the waiting gurney. Beckett wasn't present, and that worried McKay. If he wasn't here, that meant he was with Sheppard, and if he was still with Sheppard that meant that the colonel wasn't doing so hot.

Cursing the whole screwed up situation, he stormed after the medical team, not bothering to seek out Elizabeth. She'd probably be keeping apprised anyway.

Arriving at the infirmary, he sought the bed containing Sheppard. Relieved, he found the colonel dozing on his side. He looked pale, but he wasn't curled into a ball any longer, and he didn't seem to be in pain. There was an IV running into his right hand, and a blanket pulled up to his shoulders, exposing just enough to see they'd gotten him changed into scrubs. While he didn't look dead, he did look haggard.

Beckett greeted the gurney, and they rushed Dreya off, amidst her protests and insistence on seeing Sheppard. Sheppard didn't even stir, so either the bond didn't work so well in that way, or Carson had drugged him good. McKay was betting it was the drugs.

Sighing with relief that, at least for now, disaster was averted, he slumped tiredly over to Sheppard's side. He dropped into the chair that was always around when Sheppard, or any of his team landed as guests here. Rodney had always just taken the chairs presence for granted until he noticed when Bates had been beaten to a pulp that there wasn't a chair. No one to sit by Bates, and that had made him feel guilty and pissed for weeks, and he didn't even know why.

McKay allowed his mind to drift, losing himself in theories over a new piece of equipment they'd discovered yesterday. He knew he should probably go to his lab. He'd be more use there, than here, but he never could seem to do much in times like these. He thought back to the recent time when Sheppard had been changing into the iratus bug. They'd congregated in the mess hall, doing nothing but sitting, because nothing else seemed like the thing to do. Teyla had gone with Dreya and Carson, and McKay guessed Ronon had taken up the chore of debriefing Elizabeth about their trip to Eradia. He'd have to thank the moose later. Despite his mind running a hundred miles an hour, his head began to droop, and soon he dropped into an uneasy doze.

oOo

Sheppard drifted awake, the only remaining echoes of pain being a vague soreness in his abdomen. A big improvement to the gut wrenching agony of before. He blinked against the bright light of the infirmary, and looked around. McKay was hunched over, snoring peacefully in the chair next to his bed, and he saw the back of Beckett a couple of beds away. He and Teyla were talking quietly, and there was someone in the bed, but he couldn't see who it was.

He stretched carefully, and the sound of his movement drew the eyes his way. Beckett turned, and upon noticing Sheppard was awake, grinned and started towards him. Teyla followed, and their absence from the other bed exposed that it was Dreya. She seemed to be sleeping.

Sheppard almost hated to ask, but he did anyway. "The baby?"

Carson grimaced, and Sheppard steeled himself for bad news.

"It's a bit of a surprise, Colonel. She was pregnant with twins, and as is often the case, one of them didn't make it. That was the pain you felt. For now, her body has miscarried one of the twins, but the other is still hanging on."

John cycled through sorrow, surprise, and a mixture of relief and stress. So, he was still basically 'pregnant' then. He didn't know how to feel about the loss of the twin. It wasn't his – yet, he felt…he couldn't quite describe it. It was as if part of him had been taken away, and that didn't make any sense at all.

Teyla placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Something people had been doing to him a lot. "It is okay to feel sorrow, Colonel."

"Why would I be sad?" he retorted a little too quickly, a little too harshly. "It wasn't even mine."

Teyla narrowed his eyes in that way that made John know he wasn't fooling anyone. "As you say," she replied.

Her voice held this bit of tenderness, and support, and a refusal to let him escape from reality, that he felt tears prickle the edge of his eyelids and suddenly angry, he swiped his hands across his face to dispel the offending things. He wasn't sad, and it wasn't his. Period. Now he just had to figure out whom he was trying to convince, them, or him?

"When Dreya wakes up, she needs to talk to you," interrupted Beckett. "Do you feel up to it?"

God bless Beckett. "Yeah," said John, his voice rougher than he'd thought it'd be.

"Then rest, Colonel. There's nothing else you can do now. Later we'll see about getting you released since the crisis appears to be over for now."

Another reassuring pat, that was fast becoming annoying, and the two left him alone. He found his hand drifting oddly down to his belly. It hadn't changed, and he knew it wouldn't, but it felt funny. Full, kind of, and sore. Despite the loss of one baby, another still was fighting to stay alive, and he found himself rooting for the little squirt despite the predicament it put him in. Shit. He was so not going to think about this kid like that. It wasn't his, it was some dead guys, and if he let himself get involved, what would he do when the wraith culled their planet again?

Sheppard lost himself in his thoughts, and wasn't sure how long he'd been lying there just thinking. The soft moan from the other occupant in the infirmary brought his attention outward instead of inward. The chair where McKay had been was now empty, and that kind of surprised him, because he hadn't heard anything. He must have slept and not realized it.

He turned towards her bed, and watched as she finished waking up, and realized where she was. John wondered how much Beckett had told her. Did she know she'd lost one child but that there was hope for the other? Did she think or feel Sheppard's mixture of anger, regret – a strong sense of intrusion. He gazed at her and couldn't help but realize just what her impetuous actions had cost him.

Sure, there was the funny side. He'd gotten a lot of that already. A man getting to experience being pregnant. But, the other side, the dark side, was that this had been forced on him. Ronon had been pissed for both of them earlier, but now Sheppard's rage was catching up. His entire way of life was being messed with. It made him wish there was a morning after pill for his situation, which was ridiculous, because he wasn't physically pregnant. A morning after pill to erase stupid bonds placed against men without their consent? He wondered if the lab techs would be able to stop laughing long enough to work on it…

"Colonel Sheppard?" Dreya called hesitantly.

"I think John is more appropriate," he said with a trace of bitterness. "After all, you've gotten me more intimately involved in your life than any other woman has."

Dreya looked embarrassed, her face flushed, and Sheppard felt a degree of satisfaction because of it. And then he felt petty.

"Don't hate me for what I did," she whispered, barely audible.

"I don't hate you," Sheppard started to protest, but then stopped, because the truth was that maybe he did a little. Or maybe not so much hate, as he was beginning to resent. He sighed. She looked lost in the bed. A small figure dwarfed by the blankets, with a too pale face, and lines of pain that had nothing to do with the physical.

Son of a bitch, swore John to himself, as he pushed back his own blankets and walked somewhat unsteadily to her bed. He sighed again, and sat next to her. "I don't hate you," he repeated, as much for her benefit as his. "But what you did was wrong."

She looked unsteadily at him for the first time…truly looked at him, meeting his eyes with her own. "I know. It's just, everything happened so fast and you remind me so much of him -" her voice was husky, and broken, and John felt a small part of himself ache for her.

He swallowed, forcing the lump in his throat to retreat. "That didn't give you the right to force this on me. Dreya, I can't even do my job now -"

"I know. I'm sorry."

Sheppard frowned at her, and regretted his harsh words. Something about beating a dog when it's already down…

He ruffled a hand through his hair, and fought back a sudden rising of nausea. "You need anything?" he asked abruptly.

She shook her head. "Sorry."

She apologized again and they both knew why. She was feeling sick and because of that, so was he. "It's okay," he offered her this time.

"No, it's not."

He sighed. Honesty sucked at times. "No, it's not, but I guess it will be." He thought about the days to come, thought about what was ahead, and was surprised when her hands took his.

At his questioning look, she explained.

"The loss of the child. It's necessary for the two bonded mates to do Sa'crala…" Dreya stumbled to explain, "a sharing of grief, so we both may heal. Even though one child remains, another was lost."

"I don't need to heal. It was never mine, and we aren't mates," he protested and winced. That had to have hurt, and from the look on Dreya's face, it had. God damn it…

"What we are doesn't matter. If we do not, the bond will make you even sicker, both in body and spirit."

Aw, hell…in for a penny, in for a pound, right? "Okay, but," he cautioned her, "No funky alien stuff that might get me pregnant – again."

She grinned. "I promise."

And then she took his hands and placed them on her belly, a little farther down than he felt comfortable with, until she placed hers against his, right where the hair from his belly button tapered off into an area no one but Beckett had seen in a while. He felt a flush of heat spread throughout his body, and found himself falling into the chanted words she repeated.

A forced cough drew him upright, and the flush going across his face now had nothing to do with the heat of the encounter and everything to do with the sour-faced Ronon staring at him.

He pulled away self-consciously. "It was the Sacrala," John insisted. "Had to do it to keep my sanity."

Ronon's lip twisting up just so caused Sheppard to pull back farther, and scowl.

"And did it work?" asked Ronon with subdued amusement.

"I'll get back to you on that," muttered Sheppard.

"Weir wants to see you." Ronon announced it abruptly. "Doc says you can go."

Sheppard straightened, assuming a military bearing even in pink scrubs, and finding the queasiness was still tagging along. "Thank you, Ronon. You can tell Doctor Weir I'll be there in a minute." After I throw up, thought Sheppard wretchedly, and he dropped all pretenses and dashed for the toilet, only dimly hearing Dreya suffering the same fate behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

**NOT THE DADDY...part 8**

Almost an hour passed before John made his way to Weir's office. He had puked until he gagged and Beckett had reconsidered releasing him until John had pretty much begged him. He made a pit stop at his room for a quick shower and a change of clothes, and he had to brush his teeth - twice - and use mouthwash. But John finally took a seat across from Weir's desk. "You wanted to see me?" he drawled.

Elizabeth leaned over her desk, forearms resting on the top, hands clasped together, and nodded. "Yes...how are you feeling, John?"

"I've been better," John replied, deciding he might as well be honest. "This is still freaking me out and pissing me off."

"Do you want to talk to Kate?"

John felt his eyes go wide. "Hell no! Why would you even ask that?"

Elizabeth sighed, slumping back into her chair. "I've talked with both Carson and Dreya while you were sleeping. You feel everything that she feels, John."

"Tell me something I don't know," John interjected, his voice sharp and grumbly.

"Let me finish." Elizabeth eyed him until he nodded, then she continued. "This is hard on Dreya both physically and emotionally. It's the same for you."

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Of course it is. You just felt the need to remind us both that I feel everything Dreya feels."

Elizabeth winced. "Everything she feels physically, John. Not emotionally."

"You're point being?" John prompted, because he knew she had one, and he was pretty sure he was not going to like it.

"How do feel about Dreya losing the baby?" Elizabeth asked, point blank.

John didn't expect that question and it caught him off guard, reminding him of how empty he had felt. Reminding him of sadness and longing for something that was now lost. But he shook it off and replied, "I feel sad for her."

Elizabeth sighed and rose from her chair, moving in front of the desk to face him. "We both know you're not pregnant in the typical sense, but you feel the pregnancy. You'll felt the loss of the baby, and you'll feel the twin that's left when it starts to move in Dreya's belly. You can't sit here and tell me that that does not affect you, John."

"What I do or don't feel...that's my business!" John shot back, pushing out of the chair and having to lock his knees when they suddenly buckled on him. He felt a wave of dizziness and a twist of pain in his belly. Dreya must be awake and in pain. John was really beginning to hate this.

"Sit down!" Elizabeth ordered, gripping John by the arm to press him back into the chair. She tapped her ear piece, "Dr. Beckett...I need you in my office!"

John cursed under his breath, curling in to himself in an attempt to relieve the pain. "You shouldn't have called him..." John broke off, panting against the pain. His vision grayed out for a moment and the next thing he knew, Carson was beside him, asking if he was all right. "Fine..." John gasped. "How...how's Dreya?"

Carson shook his head. "Hurting and she won't let me give her something for the pain. It's not the way of her people and I won't force it on her. However..." Carson felt around in his pocket and withdrew a syringe. "I can give you a little something to ease the pain, Colonel."

A protest curved John's lips but never made it past them. Darkness swirled over John and he went along for the ride.

OoO

The next two days passed in a drug induced haze. John woke up several times and managed to convince Dreya to take something, just a little something, to relieve her pain. He convinced her that the stress she suffered wasn't good for her baby. So she finally accepted something and dozed off. John had tried to wait for his pain to stop but it didn't and Carson was forced to sedate him again. Finally, Dreya healed enough so that the pain was doable and she requested to return to her home.

John saw her off at the jumper, but he was reluctant to see her go and said as much. She looked worn out and he would deny it to anyone who asked, but John was worried about Dreya and the baby. "If you stay, Dr. Beckett will take good care of you," John stated, hoping to convince her.

Dreya smiled but it trembled with sadness. "I need to get back to my life, Colonel Sheppard. We both do."

"Wish I could," John mumbled, unable to stop himself. He was worried for Dreya, but still angry at what she had done.

"It will get better for us both," Dreya said, reaching out to touch his arm. "I will be better once I am home, and that will be better for you."

John wanted to believe her, but he wasn't so sure he did. Still, he plastered a smile on his face and nodded. "Okay then...you take care."

Dreya's smile was brighter this time. "I will do that," she allowed. Then the stepped into the Jumper. Major Lorne was taking Dreya home.

John stepped back then turned away, feeling suddenly very lost and alone.

OoO

Three days later, John was tired of resting in his room. He was also deathly sick and tired of morning sickness, but he was more afraid of dying of boredom than anything else. He wasn't in pain anymore, which meant Dreya must be healing well, so John headed for the infirmary to ask Beckett what could be a very important question.

"Doc...got a minute?" John asked, as he stood in the doorway to Beckett's office.

"Of course," Carson replied. "Come in, Colonel. Are you feeling well? Is anything wrong?"

John waved him back into his chair. "I'm fine. I feel much better."

Carson eyed him carefully. "Still throwing up?"

"Unfortunately...yes," John replied. "That doesn't last for the whole nine months...does it?"

"No. It should be easing up soon," Carson replied.

Relief washed over John. "Great! Some good news for a change. And maybe you can make my day even better."

Carson looked intrigued. "How is that?"

"I feel what Dreya feels," John began, as he leaned a hip against Beckett's desk. "But she doesn't feel what I feel, right? I mean...if I got a splinter or something...she wouldn't feel it."

"No...she wouldn't," Carson confirmed. "I spoke with her about that, actually. She said that you could be injured, even die, and she wouldn't feel it. The bond is very strong but kind of...one way."

John actually considered that a good thing. "So...I could work out with Teyla and stuff without risking harm to Dreya or the baby."

Carson chuckled. "What you're asking me is, can Teyla kick your ass without it doing any harm to anyone other than you?"

"Pretty much," John allowed, grinning back.

"If you feel up to it you can do anything you like, Colonel. Just don't over do it." Carson shook a warning finger at him.

John rolled his eyes. "I'll be good," he promised. "Catch you later." With that he headed out to find Teyla. Maybe a good work out would make him feel less restless.

OoO

One week later the morning sickness stopped.

John made up for lost time by pigging out in the messhall. Pretty much all day long. After two days of it, Rodney caught on.

"You're not sick anymore," he said, joining John at his table, which was also occupied by Beckett.

"Nope...I feel great!" John enthused, then he stuffed a forkful of eggs into his mouth and chewed happily.

Carson watched him and grinned. "It's good to see," he stated. "I was beginning to get concerned. The Colonel had lost almost six pounds he could ill afford to lose."

John grimaced. "Yeah...well puking will do that to you."

Rodney looked disgusted. "Hello...eating," he reminded John.

"Duh. You have a cast iron stomach...what do you care," John shot back.

"True," Rodney allowed, as he buttered some toast. "But you'd better start slowing down or you'll get fat, Colonel."

John grinned at him. "Not a chance. I can eat like a horse without gaining an ounce."

Rodney shrugged. "We'll see." Then he set about digging in to his own breakfast.

OoO

Two weeks later, John was feeling great. Rodney was pissed off because he had gained two pounds while John, though eating enough for three people, had barely gained one pound. _Good metabolism_, John had told him. But that wasn't why he was smiling and feeling happy today. He was in a good mood because Beckett had just cleared him for a mission. Convincing Weir hadn't been easy, but John had argued that since the morning sickness was over, he was eating good, sleeping great and he was ready to go back through the gate. It was only after Teyla and Ronon had gone to check on Dreya that Elizabeth had conceded to let John back through the gate, on the condition that Beckett cleared. Which he had just done.

Striding into Elizabeth's office, John greeted her with,"I'm good to go!"

"So I heard," Elizabeth replied. "Carson just radioed me. Congratulations, Colonel."

John nodded. "Thanks. So…when can we go? I'm ready now."

Elizabeth made a face then she picked a report and handed it to him. "You leave tomorrow morning. Just scout the location and make friends if you can. Then I want you to come right back, understood?"

"Understood." John offered a blinding smile then he practically bounced out of the room. It was time to tell his team they were back in business.

OoO

It should have been an easy mission. But that should have sent off warning bells, and maybe it did, but John ignored them. The people of M5R-655 were almost too friendly. And maybe they would have remained friendly had Rodney not touched the very thing he had just been asked not too. And suddenly the Devians were holding weapons that looked, disturbingly, like Genii guns. John had ordered a retreat back to the Jumper and they were almost all on board when John noticed Rodney was about to get shot. He did the only thing he could. He moved to shield Rodney, even as he fired off a shot. The Devian dropped like a stone, but not before his own bullet hit it's mark. John's shoulder. Knocked John on his back but he rolled to his feet and made it the rest of the way in the Jumper with Ronon's help.

"Rodney...get us out of here!" John ordered, knowing he wouldn't be able to fly. So he let Teyla sit him down and rip open his shirt. "Straight through," John muttered, through clenched teeth. Because he felt the burn of an entry and exit wound. He gritted his teeth and Teyla checked, then she was nodding and John fought a wave of dizziness. He heard Teyla contacting Atlantis and asking for Beckett to meet them.

The trip back to Atlantis was quick and John was still conscious and able to walk out of the Jumper. Beckett took one look at him and John didn't get a chance to protest having to ride on the gurney. It became a moot point anyway when he passed out halfway there.

He came awake to a beeping sound and snoring. Peeling his eyes open, John saw Rodney asleep in the chair next to his bed. He then looked to his left and saw the heart monitor, and he wasn't the least bit surprised to see the IV in the back of his left hand. "Rodney!" John tried to be loud but it hurt and his throat was dry.

Rodney heard him anyways. He came awake with a grunt and pushed out of the chair. "How are you feeling, Colonel?" he asked.

"Thirsty," John replied, happily accepting the glass of water Rodney held out to him. Took two hands to keep it steady enough to drink from, though, and John was relieved to hand it back. "How long?" he asked.

"About 36 hours, you've been in and out." Rodney was still staring at his watch. "Anyway...thanks...you know...for taking the bullet and all. Although it was stupid of you...I mean...because you got shot."

John knew what Rodney was trying to say. "You're welcome," he interjected, then he let his eyes drift closed again.

OoO

Two days later, John was released. But he was not a happy camper. He was grounded again and this time he had to wear a sling, which immobilized him to the point where he needed help with everyday things like getting dressed and carrying his food tray. All of which put John in a bad mood. But that was nothing compared to how he felt on his third night back in his room. He had just finished eating a powerbar and reading page 77 of War and Peace when his stomach coiled with nausea. Five seconds later he was over the toilet and puking his guts up which, aggravatingly enough, was harder to do with one arm in a sling. So during a short break period of non-heaving, John unstrapped the sling so he could clutch the toilet bowl with both hands for round two.

Half an hour later, John was in bed with Beckett checking him over. "What's wrong now?" John asked, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. He felt weak and worn out and he really couldn't deal with much more happening.

"I'm guessing that Dreya's morning sickness is turning into night sickness," Carson replied. "Doesn't happen often, but in some cases...well..." He trailed off.

"This sucks," John moaned, turning on his good side and curling up.

Carson patted his head. "I know, son. I'm going to send Teyla and Ronon to see Dreya tomorrow and they can confirm her condition. "I hope you're just suffering a bout of stomach flu or a wee virus. Lord knows you can't afford to lose any more weight." That said, Carson rose to his feet. "I've sent someone to bring you some cracker and ginger ale. See if that helps and give me a call if you get worse."

John grunted. "Don't see how it could get any worse," he stated, and in hindsight he wished he could have taken those words back.

The next day Teyla and Ronon returned from seeing Dreya and confirmed that she was now suffering from being sick at night instead of the morning. But to make it even worse, she was now suffering back pains and John was pretty much inconsolable. Nothing could bring him out of his funk, not even Teyla's offer of back rubs. He stayed holed up in his room, refusing to see anyone, and with his gene he was able to keep them out. Beckett could use a medical override, he reminded John, but he didn't. At least not yet.

But a week in to John's self-inflicted hibernation, Carson called a meeting.

"This isn't good for the Colonel, physically or emotionally," Carson stated to the group surrounding the table. Which included Kate, Weir, Rodney, Ronon and Teyla.

"Meaning what exactly?" Elizabeth asked, her voice and expression conveying her concern.

Carson sighed. "I know the Colonel isn't eating properly, which means he's losing more weight. And cutting himself off from people isn't healthy. He's not the type to do that. The thing is, I know this whole pregnancy thing is overwhelming him. How can it not? A man isn't prepared to experience what Sheppard is going through."

Kate interjected to add, "This isn't something any man would handle well on an emotional level. Add to the fact that it's not something he wanted or asked for...it was forced on him and it's messing with his life. It's taking away the Colonel's control."

"That would suck," Rodney exclaimed.

"Indeed it would," Elizabeth replied, then she looked at Beckett and Kate. "So what do we do?"

Kate and Beckett exchanged looks before Kate replied, "It's time for an intervention." After everyone got over their surprise and Beckett explained exactly what an intervention was to Ronon and Teyla, Kate then picked up again to spell out her exact plan.

OoO

In his room John sat on the bathroom floor, next to the toilet. He was sweaty and trembling and beyond tired, but he slumped against the wall, singing beneath his breath, "...I cross the line..."

**THE END...of part 8**


	9. Chapter 9

**Not the Daddy…part nine**

**Pregnancy clock: 3 months 1 week**

Sheppard was exhausted, no, scratch that, he was comatose. The walking dead. Zombified. How the hell was Dreya functioning like this? He could hardly put one foot in front of the other, let alone face the stack of reports on his desk.

He'd drifted off to sleep hugging the toilet, only to wake with drool sliding down the bowl, and his face mushed and cold from the metal. John had contemplated his bed, but realized that he may as well try to catch up on work while he felt okay. Seeing how that was such a rare event lately.

It was going on past a week of hiding in his room, and he knew his friends were getting worried about him, but _Jesus_, give a guy time to break down quietly alone, you know? It's not every day you become the first man to experience pregnancy through first hand experience – well, second hand, but with first hand emotions and physical sensations. He'd thought he was coping emotionally, thought he could get through this, but when the throwing up resumed, it'd been almost all he could do to not break down and cry then and there. Carson had said this was a normal variant of pregnancy symptoms, but he'd overheard Teyla explaining to one of the Athosian women she trained that Dreya was one of those unlucky women who experience a more severe type of sickness.

Just his luck.

At least they were delivering his work to his room. Elizabeth wanted him to talk. Rodney wanted to record every last detail, hear about each sensation, while Ronon was still debating whether to end the bond through nefarious means. Well, okay, Ronon wouldn't really do it – at least, John didn't think he would. Never could tell with the Satedan. Teyla just kept smiling at him. And the comments. You'd think he'd gated to another galaxy with a comedian troupe. 'Hey, Colonel, you're positively glowing today!' or 'How's the little mother?' And his favorite, 'Have some extra, Colonel, you're eating for two now' from the messhall workers. Except he wasn't eating for two, he was eating for one, and what good did it do to eat when the damn food kept coming back up with stunning irregularity. Just when he thought he'd found a routine, it went and changed on him.

He shuffled another file to the side, and stared at what someone had stuck in the pile, and was now at the top of the stack. A DVD case with a very pregnant Arnold Schwarzenegger stared up at him with a dumbstruck look on his face, and a hand on the swollen stomach, a grinning Danny Devito holding a stethoscope to his belly, and a woman hanging on his shoulders smiling. Except, Sheppard's face had been pasted over Arnold's, and Beckett's over Danny Devito's with McKay's face replacing the woman's.

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he settled for a mixture of both and vowed when he got his hands on the culprit, he was so dead. Zalenka. Had to be. The Czech was finding this hilarious, and had taken to following him around. 'Should you be doing this, Colonel?' 'Is that safe for the baby?' 'You should eat better, for the baby.'

He tossed the DVD across the room, pushed back away from the desk, and covered his face in his hands. God, this was ludicrous. And more than anything, he was so sick of being sick. It had to let up soon. He'd been given that brief taste of almost feeling normal, and then had it snatched away. Beckett could say it was normal till he was red in the face and slipping into an accent so thick no one could comprehend, but it wasn't normal for _Sheppard_.

"Colonel Sheppard, this is Doctor Beckett, pick up your radio, son."

John pulled his hands back, and swiveled enough to stare at the communication's piece on his nightstand. He debated not answering, but knew that Carson could pull a medical override and get into his quarters.

Scrubbing his hands across his face, and only succeeding in making himself look more disheveled, he picked it up and slid it on, tapping the ear piece. "This is Sheppard, whadda you need, Doc?"

"You, Colonel. We need to start routine visits to keep up with your weight and general health. Today is the first day."

John's mouth dropped open. Beckett had to be kidding. "You're pulling my leg, Doc. I'm not _physically_ pregnant, just mentally. I'm not going to gain weight, and I'm sure as hell not going to sit through regular exams."

Sheppard felt the taut silence and winced. Maybe he should've been a bit more…tactful…in his reply.

"Colonel," the icy tone wasn't lost on John, "You will do as ordered. You may not gain weight, but you sure as bloody hell are losing weight, and that's as much of a problem as the other, and we need to monitor your condition. I expect you in one hour, Beckett out."

Sheppard had started to retort over his dead body, and thought better of it, and anyway, Beckett hadn't given him the opportunity to dig his own grave deeper. Guess the doc knew him too well. One hour. Crap. That was hardly enough time to do anything, which is probably why he'd given him an hour.

Sighing, Sheppard decided he might as well grab something to eat and then head over there and get this check-up.

OoO

He stalked in to the infirmary fifty-eight minutes later, having deliberately lingered at the messhall, and then went in with guns blazing. He didn't even know why he was going to be so contrary today, but he just felt it in his bones. He was irritable, sick of it all, and didn't feel like holding his punches.

Of course, coming through the double doors and finding Beckett, Elizabeth, Rodney, Teyla and Ronon, sitting around on beds and apparently deep in conversation with Kate being the icing on the cake, froze him in his tracks. He pulled up so abruptly, he wasn't sure if he'd cleared the door, but it swooshing shut behind him cued him in that he had. Too bad.

"What's the party for? Premature baby shower?"

McKay snorted, Teyla frowned, and Elizabeth started to smile and wisely toned it down, while Kate and Beckett just watched him with those assessing eyes.

"We're concerned, John."

So, Elizabeth was going to bite the bullet and call him out. And this was the result. Scowling at them all, he turned and started to leave, when Beckett called him up short.

"Colonel, there's the matter of your exam."

John stopped, and turned around, finding a deathly calm. "And here I thought that was an excuse to pull some kind of – intervention – on me. Trying to get me to talk about my _feelings_," he said with exaggeration.

Kate took a step towards him, and Sheppard took one more back, but bumped into the door, which didn't open, and he had to wonder about that. Guess they didn't want to give him the chance to run.

She stopped when she saw his reaction. "Colonel, people are concerned about your well-being. No one expects you to handle this alone."

"What if I want to?"

"Maybe, if you were handling it, but do you really consider putting yourself in some kind of voluntary solitary confinement coping?" pressed Kate.

"He's coping the best he can," spoke Ronon, leaning against a bed. His entire stance radiated his opinion. He was siding with Sheppard. "This wasn't his choice."

"Thank you," said John with feeling. "Someone gets it."

Teyla shot Ronon a look so dirty it made Sheppard do a double take, before she said, "Colonel, this is a miraculous time for a woman. You have been gifted with a rare chance. No other man in your culture has been able to truly understand what it is like to bear a child. To give life where none was before."

"No man in my culture _wants_ to experience the miracle, Teyla. These Eradian men want to do this, fine, but I'm not an Eradian man, I'm from Earth, and on Earth, men don't get pregnant. We don't do anything but sympathize with our wives and try to be some kind of coach at the end, and pray we don't screw up and pass out during the delivery. That's about as good as it gets, and I was just fine with that. This, this is crazy, I feel like my entire world has been yanked out from under me, and if I could just manage to Stop. Throwing. Up. Every. Freaking. Hour." And he ran out of gas. Simple as that. He just flatlined on the emotional scale. Shit.

And then his stomach flipped, and he dashed for a sink.

Once the heaves stopped, and his lunch was being washed down the waste pipes, he leaned back on the sink and took the wet rag from Beckett. He limply stared them down and said, "Happy now? You've made the 'little mother' ill."

Elizabeth was overtly smiling now. "Actually, yes. You finally admitted how much this entire situation pales beyond the bad for you. But now, let me ask you, what do you think about the first time when you feel the baby move?"

McKay was whispering something to Ronon, who was still glaring. Sheppard wondered what was so interesting, but he tried to focus on Weir's question. He was kind of stumped. He hadn't thought that far ahead, or more to the point, he'd thought _past_ that point to the end of the pregnancy. He had two time periods in his mind, and that was the stage he was at now, miserable, sick and tired, and then the labor and delivery part.

He narrowed his eyes and looked accusingly at Beckett. "I can have drugs, right? You said I could have drugs."

"What the devil are you talking about?" asked a perplexed Beckett.

"The labor," supplied John. "Doc, I've had to deal with a lot already, and there are some things I'd rather not ever feel in my life, labor being one of them."

"I'll be your labor coach," McKay offered smugly, apparently done with the private conversation he'd been having with Ronon, who still appeared disgruntled, but toned down a few degrees.

Now it was Sheppard's turn to snort.

"Yes, you can have drugs." Beckett shot McKay a warning look.

Elizabeth persisted. "You still haven't answered how you'll feel when the baby moves for the first time, John?"

"You need to prepare yourself for these things, Colonel," agreed Kate.

"Fine, I'll prepare myself. It'll be some kind of creepy alien experience, and I'll be sure to record every thought for you to digest, is that good enough?"

Kate remained nonplussed, but Teyla and Elizabeth looked annoyed and that was fine by him. He shouldn't be the only one annoyed.

"Look, Doc, seriously, if you want to do these regular exams, fine, do them, but the audience has got to go. I don't need the entire city finding out how much I weigh, and I'm not peeing in a cup."

Sheppard shot a warning look at Rodney just as he was opening his mouth. McKay reconsidered, and snapped it shut.

Ronon grabbed the physicist and said, "Doctor McKay was going to run some tests on my weapon. Have fun, Sheppard."

As John watched them leave, he had to wonder when Dex had developed a sense of humor. That was almost a joke. Have fun. Ha ha ha.

Kate seemed almost appeased. "Colonel, I think we've made progress today. Remember, hiding in your room won't change your situation. We're here to help you. Talk to us."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement. "That's an order, John. I want you talking through this at least once a week. I don't care who, but you need to tell me who you've been talking to, is that clear?"

Yeah, he'd talk all right, he'd talk to that freaky alien pet Lorne had found on PX7-590. Bet it'd understand. "Sure," he agreed lazily.

He saw Elizabeth's suspicious look, but she nodded, and turned to Beckett. Send me a report on his condition."

"Aye, I will."

Elizabeth and Kate left, Kate pausing near him and squeezing his arm reassuringly, and that one little touch almost undid him. No mocking, no pressure to be something he wasn't, just sympathetic understanding. God, he was turning into an emotional wreck.

Beckett tapped a foot. "Hop on the scale, Colonel."

Shit.

He didn't like it, but he did it anyway. Carson tsked under his breath and noted something in a file. It didn't look like his regular file, so he peered at it cautiously and read: Sheppard, John T., Colonel – prenatal folder.

"What the hell is that, Beckett!" he roared.

Carson noticed the object of his fury and shrugged noncommittally. "Relax, Colonel. There are certain forms that are standard in the medical community, and procedures for handling things. Routine tests and results, everything is filed and handled in this particular way and it's easy for everyone. This way, I know we won't miss anything crucial."

John was seething. "This isn't routine, and I don't want a _prenatal_ folder, and what the hell do you think could possibly go wrong that you have to monitor me with regular exams anyway, besides weight loss?"

Now it was Carson's turn to get pissy. "Look, Colonel. I can't tell you I know, nobody knows, but we do know about pregnancy in a female body, and as far as that goes there are all kinds of complications that crop up, and we can't take the chance that the only side effect of this bond is emotions. In fact, it's been the opposite. If anything, we've got direct proof that the bond manifests pregnancy symptoms and complications physiologically in your body. You have been sick, you experienced the pain with the miscarriage, your body is tired and the latest blood tests from when you were injured," Carson stared pointedly at the slight lump under his shirt on his shoulder, "show borderline anemia indicating the depletion one would expect in a woman's vitamin stores is happening to you. This indicates a potential for pregnancy induced conditions such as diabetes, pre-eclampsia, bloody hell, plenty of things we need to monitor, whether you like it or not!"

His tirade stunned Sheppard…a little. But not enough to deter him. "Did you stop to think the anemia was from losing blood when I was SHOT?" He practically shouted the last word.

"Do you think I'm daft, man? Of course I did, which is why we repeated the tests before you were released. It was then that the staff decided you needed to be followed just as we would a pregnant woman, and there's nothing you can say that will convince me differently."

Sheppard could tell he was losing. The problem with being a patient is you've got little say when you are in the military. You follow orders, whether you liked it or not, and he supposed he should be thankful that Caldwell was currently en route to Earth and he didn't have to face being told by a superior to shut up and take it like a man. Like a man. Oh, that was funny.

"What's so amusing?" asked Beckett warily.

"Pretty much my entire life, Doc."

Wisely, Beckett didn't try to argue that one. "You're down almost ten pounds, Colonel. That's serious. Those are pounds you could ill-afford to lose. I'm sending you to the dietician, and you will follow her suggestions, understood?"

"Whatever," agreed Sheppard.

Beckett gestured for him to hop up on an exam table. He did so reluctantly.

"So, what can I expect from these routine exams, anyway?" John figured he might as well find out now what he was going to have to deal with and get it over with. Less painful in the long run, right?

"Standard tests. Urine, blood initially just to get a baseline on your levels. We'll be starting you on iron supplements today, and I'll prescribe a stool relaxer."

Sheppard spluttered, "What for?"

Beckett stopped writing and regarded him patiently. "The iron may make you constipated. It's a common side effect."

"As if I don't have enough 'side effects,'" grouched Sheppard.

Beckett set the chart down, and pulled the blood pressure cuff off the wall, strapping it to John's arm. "Blood pressure checks, weight, of course, and we're going to try something experimental today, just to see -"

"Experimental?" Sheppard didn't like the sound of that.

"Actually, it's a theory of mine that if we listen with a Doppler, we can hear the baby's heartbeat. I'm in the minority on this one, but we'll see."

John chuckled. "I think you're cracked, Doc. The baby isn't inside me, you aren't going to hear squat."

"I'm not so sure. It seems to me this bond was created in the Eradian people for something more than a way for the men to share. Usually biological evolution comes about to serve a purpose. The only survival purpose that makes sense is that the man sharing would serve as another 'monitor' to the baby, basically. If something happens to the baby, you'll feel it as well. And, I talked to Dreya, you started feeling the pain from the twin's miscarriage before Dreya."

The news stunned John. He sat their dumbfounded while Beckett finished taking his blood pressure, and forced a thermometer between his frozen lips. "Are'y s'rious," he asked in disbelief finally, speaking around the device under his tongue.

Carson rolled his eyes and took the thermometer out when it beeped. "As I thought, slightly high, which is normal in pregnant women."

"Is that why I've started to feel hot all the time?"

"Yes, quite normal, as I said, it'll get worse towards the end."

Sheppard had enough shocks for the day. "You know, you can stop trying to send me into a catatonic state, Doc. Enough revelations for the day."

"Forewarned is prepared, Colonel."

Beckett dropped the back of the exam table down, and started guiding John to his back. Panicked, Sheppard resisted, "Woah, woah, there, Doc. There isn't anything in that area that needs examining!"

Now Beckett did laugh. "The heartbeat, Colonel, lift your shirt."

John still wasn't sure about it, but he slowly complied. When Beckett pulled a machine out of his lab pocket and slathered some kind of jelly on the end of the wand, he seemed even more uncertain. When Beckett started unbuttoning Sheppard's pants, he bolted off the table, and maneuvered till it was between them. "There isn't any heartbeat down there, I promise."

Beckett pursed his lips. "Colonel, Dreya is roughly three and a half months along, which means the baby is still low in her uterus. I'm trying to get a similar location on your body. I won't go past the hair line, promise."

Sheppard thought about it, and with one hand holding up his pants, lifted a warning finger at Beckett and said, "You promise?"

"Scouts honor," swore Beckett.

"Okay, because there is only one hole down there, and I'll be damned if your sticking that thing up it," he muttered under his breath, then blushed furiously when a nurse behind him started giggling.

Oh, god, kill me now, he thought, but he hopped back on the table and laid down, this time slipping his pants to just halfway past his hips. This was mortifying.

Beckett approached, and slipped the Doppler on John's flat stomach. The cold gel caused him to suck air in between his teeth. "That's freezing!" he complained.

"Sorry, Colonel."

John didn't think he sounded it much.

He heard a heartbeat and stared at Carson in surprise. "Is that -?"

Beckett shook his head, concentrating on John's stomach, moving lower. "That's your heartbeat, hear how slow it is, the baby will be faster." And just as he said it, a rapid whush-whush filled the room.

Beckett's face cracked in a wise smile. "I knew it!" he crowed.

But John wasn't paying attention to Beckett. He was listening to the lightning fast, impossible sound, of a baby's heartbeat, coming from him, and it was the most amazing thing he'd ever heard before.

The End…of part nine


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Linnzi, thanks girl! Lilas, yeah, we've got Shep in a place where he needs to come to terms with this whole thing. And the next part is going to be some good McShep interaction. Highonscifi, I'm glad we hooked you into the story, the 'I couldn't stop reading' is always a good sign. Emrys, I'll be your excuse. You go ahead and tell them it was all my fault (evil grin), but falling asleep in chemistry lab, you might want to stay awake for that, or you might wind up with blue shoes or singed hair! Jules, it's no doubt that Shep really has no inkling about the true emotional toll this is going to take. Harper's pixie, we're going to be letting information about the bond filter into parts as it goes. It's unique in the galaxy, and as we all know, unique is - hmmm, good? Laura, Shep needs to be confronted to face his feelings, but you are right, he's very private and the situation is not leaving him with much in the way of control, and his 'little problem' is affecting everything, so he's going to have to learn a measure of having things 'out there' for his friends to see, and he's going to need them more than ever! Titan, thanks so much for telling us, because we thrive on hearing it. It's miracle gro for the fingers. And now, we are all 'caught up', but we're trying to ping-pong our parts back in a timely manner so updates won't be that far in between unless personal crisis, mayhem or murder ensue at our homes!

**NOT THE DADDY...part 10**

_**Pregnancy clock: 3 months, 2 weeks**_

For a long moment both John and Beckett were silent, simply listening to the rapid heartbeat that signified the baby that Dreya carried. The baby that John was bonded with in ways that defied science and medicine in every conceivable way and means. But John could not deny the reality of what he was hearing. It took his breath away and John started feeling lightheaded until the nurse hovering on his other side whispered,

"That's incredible..."

It was incredible but hearing her say that shook John out of his shock and he shoved Beckett's hand away, sitting up and swiping the gel off his stomach with one hand and trying to do up his pants with the other. He didn't do well with either achievement and cursed as he pushed himself off the table. Cursed again when his injured shoulder twinged. His self-imposed isolation had been a good thing as far as recovery from his injury was concerned, but he still wasn't completely healed and John bit back a moan as his shoulder started throbbing with pain.

Carson was by his side in an instant. "Easy, Colonel. Take it easy and let me have a look."

"Get the fuck away from me!" John snarled, pushing at Beckett with his good hand. He suddenly felt suffocated and he needed to get out of here. He needed to be alone. So he dodged around the doctor and the nurse and ran for the door. He heard Beckett calling after him and ignored him. John fled into the nearest transporter and only when he was inside and on the move did he manage to button up his pants. His knees buckled and he slid to the floor, chest heaving as he tried to suck breath into lungs that felt constricted. John hadn't expected to feel this way. He wasn't prepared for this and he was pretty damn sure he never would be. He knew Heightmeyer and Weir and Teyla believed that talking would help but John knew better. He had never been one to talk about his feelings. He had been a private person even as a child. He didn't want to share this. He wanted this whole thing to just disappear as if it never had been.

The transporter doors slid open and John pushed up to his feet and stumbled out. He realized he was in the corridor that led to his room and he ran there, needing to take refuge in solitude once more. Making his way to the bed, John curled up on his good side, arms wrapped around a pillow, as he tried to will himself into sleep. He wanted the oblivion. But all he could hear in his head was the whush-whush sound of the baby's heartbeat. John hugged the pillow tighter. He was so very very fucked.

oOo

Teyla sought him out.

John had managed to fall asleep but he woke up when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. He _thought_ open his door and let Teyla enter. "Beckett send you?" he croaked out as he shifted into a sitting position. Surprisingly, other than feeling groggy and cotton-mouthed, John didn't feel so bad.

"He was concerned," Teyla allowed. "How are you feeling?"

"Confused," John confessed, then he resisted the urge to clap a hand over his mouth. He wasn't one to make such confessions and he blamed it all on his blasted connection to Dreya. "Tell Beckett I'm fine and I promise I won't hide in here."

Teyla nodded then asked, "Are you hungry?"

John realized he was starving. "I could eat," he agreed, sliding off the bed. "Let me shower and we can get some chow."

"Take your time," Teyla said, as she moved to sit in his desk chair.

"Won't take but a minute," John countered, snagging jeans and a tee shirt and a pair of striped boxers before heading into the bathroom. He stripped then stepped into the shower and relaxed into the hot spray. After a moment he washed his hair, scrubbed his body then rinsed and stepped out to dry off. Didn't take long for him to get dressed, brush his teeth and towel dry his hair. After combing his fingers through the damp strands, John was ready to go.

Teyla was making the bed and she looked up and smiled. "You look more yourself," she commented.

John accepted her words in the nature they were given. "Feel more myself," he said softly. "No nausea and food actually sounds good. Hey...maybe after we eat we could do a little work out?" John felt himself getting excited at the prospect until he got a look at Teyla's face. She looked worried and when she saw him staring she shook her head.

"You are still not fully healed, Colonel," Teyla countered. "And you're body is going through the added stress of your bonding with Dreya."

"I know that," John shot back, his tone a bit too sharp but he felt irritated by the fact that everyone was treating him like he was suddenly something fragile. Like he might break. "I was thinking you could teach me some of those meditation exercises. The one's I told you remind me of Tai Chi."

Teyla's expression relaxed and she smiled. "Perhaps we could do that," she said. "If Doctor Beckett approves."

John sighed and bit back a retort. He knew that Teyla was just looking out for what she believed to be his best interests. "Look...after we eat you ask him, okay?" That was as much of a compromise as John was going to give.

"I can do that," Teyla agreed. "Are you ready to go?"

"Sure." John started for the door but stopped and pointed at the bed. "You didn't have to do that, but thank you."

Teyla smiled, warm and bright. "You are welcome," she said, as she touched his shoulder before stepping past him and out of the room.

John followed, a smile curving his own lips. Maybe things would slip back into what passed for normal in Atlantis. If only for a little while.

oOo

"Juice?"

John jumped at the question, not realizing Elizabeth had joined him on the balcony. It had become his favorite refuge. He Stood up and faced her with a smile before staring at the glass of orange juice she was holding out to him. "Um...you brought me juice?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Carson told me it's good for you."

"I'm not pregnant!" John snapped, and he realized his new - default - setting was; exasperated.

"I know," Elizabeth said quietly, still holding out the glass.

John took it, heaved a sigh, then took a sip. He was pleased when his stomach didn't recoil. "Sorry for snapping at you."

Elizabeth smiled. "That's okay. It's a hormonal thing." She held up a hand to forestall his reply. "John...like it or not, you are experiencing what it's like to be pregnant. You can't pretend otherwise, so you need to find a way to accept it. I want to help you do that."

"I appreciate the offer but...I've accepted it and I'm dealing so please don't push...okay?" John knew he was coming dangerously close to begging, but he was getting desperate.

"I'll try." It was Elizabeth's way of compromising. "Carson told me you heard the baby's heartbeat."

John stiffened then he sat down before his knees could buckle. The sound of the baby's heartbeat haunted him. "It was weird," he whispered.

Elizabeth moved to sit beside him. "I imagine it was. But I'm guessing that it was also kind of...cool?"

"The word you're looking for is freaky," John said, emphatically. He set the juice aside, pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his good arm around them. "Only in the Pegasus galaxy," he mumbled beneath his breath.

"Would you rather be back on Earth?" Elizabeth queried.

John considered her question, seriously. "No...Atlantis is home now. But I didn't sign up for this." He turned his head to meet her sympathetic gaze and that gave him pause. He didn't want her sympathy. Hell, John wasn't even sure he wanted her understanding. It struck him, suddenly, that he was rather resentful of the fact that she was dealing with this situation better than he was. "I have work to do," John muttered, rising to his feet. He didn't give Elizabeth time to respond, he simply strode out the door with no real place to go. There was no where he could run, or hide, from this.

John had never felt more trapped in his life.

oOo

"Step on the scale, son."

John winced at Beckett's request and actually took a step away from the device. "Is this really necessary?" he asked.

Carson turned to look at him. "Of course it is. It's part of your weekly check up. Now step up."

"Fine!" Glaring at Beckett now, John did as he was told. He didn't look at the numbers because he knew what Beckett would find."

"You're down another pound, Colonel!" Carson sounded grieved. "You've not been following the diet set up for you, have you?"

John could not miss the accusation in Beckett's tone. "I followed the stupid diet!" he snapped. "It's not my fault I keep puking!" With that he stepped off the scale and made to stomp off, only a hand on his arm held him in place.

Carson waited for John to look at him. "I know this is rough on you and I don't mean to add to it. But you've got me worried, Colonel. 'You were a little too lean for my liking from the get go, but now you've slipped over into skinny."

"I'm not skinny!" John protested, vehemently. Sure his clothes didn't fit him at the moment, but it couldn't be helped. If Beckett were any kind of doctor he would have long ago discovered a cure for morning sickness. No matter what time of day it occurred.

"Come with me," Carson said, hauling John along with him. He went into his office and pointed to three cans that were lined up on his desk. "Take your pick, Colonel. Chocolate, vanilla or strawberry?"

John frowned at him. "What?" He gestured at the can, which had generic brown labels. "What are those?"

Carson picked one up and held it out. "Consider them calories in a can. You're going to drink one three times a day until you get some weight back on you. This one is chocolate. Drink up."

"You've got to be kidding me. It's like a protein drink thing, isn't it?" John stared at the can but did not accept it.

"Pretty much," Carson allowed. "Now drink up or I swear I'll hook you up to a feeding tube."

John shuddered at the thought. He knew exactly what that meant after visiting his grandmother in the nursing home when he was a teenager. "Fine!" He grabbed the can and turned to go.

Carson blocked his way. "Drink it now."

"What? You don't trust me?" John was insulted.

"I know you, Colonel," Carson replied with a slight grin. "Now drink up."

John decided it wasn't worth the effort to protest and, realistically, he knew he did need to get some weight back on. So he popped the top, took a swallow, then made a face. "Tastes like chalk."

Carson nodded, his expression displaying sympathy. "Aye...but it's good for what ails you. Drink it all." He touched the bottom of the can and pushed it towards John's mouth.

"I hate this," John muttered, before swallowing the contents as quickly as he could. He fully expected them to come right back up but, miraculously, they stayed down. John, gratefully, accepted the glass of water that Beckett held out and gulped it down. "I don't really have to do this three times a day, do I?"

"Aye...you do." Carson moved to his desk and removed something from the drawer. "I want you to start taking these as well. Prenatal vitamins."

John felt his eyes go wide. "You're kidding!" But he could see, by the look on Beckett's face, that the doctor was deadly serious. "This is insane!" John protested. "I'm neither pregnant nor a woman! When are you people going to get that through your heads?" He was yelling now but he didn't care. He was sick of this and John knew there was no way in hell he was going to be able to deal with it for another five and a half months. No way in hell.

Carson reached out, gripping John by the shoulder. "You can't run away from what's happening to you, Colonel. You know that. If there was a way to break the bond, I would. But we both know there's nothing you can do but see this through."

"Easy for you to say," John grumbled. Then he took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then apologized. "Sorry...I don't mean to take this out on you. It's not your fault, Doc...and I know you're just trying to help me."

"I am," Carson agreed. "And I confess to being worried. I went and talked to Dreya again two days ago and she's doing better than you are. It seems that you're taking on what she would have suffered, so to speak. As if you're channeling the worst of it for her."

John was stunned to hear that. "Is that normal?"

Carson shook his head. "Apparently not. She told me that you're...bond...with her is unique. I think it's because of the gene and the fact that it's more...saturated...in you, so to speak. So this is something entirely new."

"Lucky me." John felt anything but. "Can I go now?"

"I need to finish your check up," Carson protested, but then he relented. "Aye...go ahead and get some rest. Stop back later and we'll finish up." He scooped up the remaining two cans and held them out. "Don't forget...one at lunch and one at suppertime. Along with your regular meals."

John sighed as he accepted the cans, then he left the infirmary. He dumped the cans in his room then wandered about Atlantis until he ended up at the gym. Not surprisingly, Ronon was there working out. John leaned in the doorway and watched for a time. He had just started working out with Ronon when he'd bonded with Dreya, which meant no more workouts. Despite the fact that Ronon had handed him his ass every time, John had enjoyed the challenge. He missed it.

"How are you feeling, Sheppard?"

John blinked to realize that Ronon was standing before him. He must have zoned out for a minute. "I've been better," he allowed.

Ronon nodded, one hand wiping sweat off his face. "Did you want something?"

"Nope...just wandering around feeling sorry for myself." John was a bit surprised by his confession, but he felt secure in being honest with Ronon. The man was blunt and fairly non judgmental, in his own way.

"What happened…it's wrong," Ronon stated. He looked angry. "It's a violation!"

John was surprised by the vehemence in Ronon's tone. "It's a simple case of wrong place at the wrong time," he countered. "Dreya didn't mean any harm." John was surprised by his own defense of her. For the most part he didn't feel particularly charitable towards the woman.

Ronon did not look convinced. "She forced this on you. She knew what would happen and she had no right!"

"Yeah...well...there is that," John conceded. For the past few weeks he had been very angry at Dreya, mostly when he was hunched over the toilet puking his guts out. Lately he felt angry at the world in general. But right now John realized he was too tired to be angry. He just wanted this to be over. "Can't change what happened," he muttered.

"She should be punished for what she did to you!" Ronon snarled.

John stared at him in surprise. "Whoa...chill out, big guy. She didn't kill anyone. She just...she made a mistake. Who hasn't?" John heard the words coming out of his own mouth and he was stunned by them. He really could not figure out why he was defending Dreya. Man he really was fucked up and confused. "I'm gonna go get something to eat," John said, figuring that Ronon would be able to relate to food. He waved and headed out, totally ignoring the messhall. Instead John headed back to his room. He needed to pee and he was ready for a nap. The peeing thing had long since passed to outright annoying.

Taking the short cut to his room, John stepped out of the transporter and a moment later he was home. So to speak. He took care of business, splashed cold water on his face then realized he was actually too tired to nap. Too restless. So he decided to seek out Rodney. McKay was always good for a distraction. Only when John reached the lab, it was empty save for Zelenka. So John did an abrupt about face. The Czech had been hounding him to keep a diary and he wasn't the only one interested in every detail of his daily life since the bonding. But no way in hell was John going to let himself become some type of scientific experiment.

Sadly, he wasn't fast enough and Zelenka spotted him.

"Colonel...please to wait!" the Czech called out.

"Shit..." John hissed beneath his breath, before turning around to face the smaller man. He couldn't quite force a smile as Zelenka reached him. "Something I can do for you?" he asked, through gritted teeth.

Zelenka grinned. "No...nothing. I wished only to ask how you are doing? I will not make fun of you today...I promise."

John arced an eyebrow. "Only today?" he prompted.

"We see how tomorrow goes," Zelenka allowed, his eyes glittering with mirth, but with warmth as well. "Truly, colonel...how are you feeling?"

"Hungry." It was out before John could stop it and he realized he felt like he was starving. But it wasn't an empty kind of starving so much as a craving kind of feeling. "I have this urge for peanut butter."

Zelenka looked surprise. "We have peanut butter now. The Daedalus brought several cases."

John made a face. "Yeah...of the smooth stuff. I prefer the crunchy kind."

"I might be able to help you with that," Zelenka drawled. "Please to come to my room. But you must keep this secret, Colonel. Especially from Rodney."

"I won't say a word," John replied, as he followed Zelenka out of the lab.

An hour later he left Zelenka's room feeling overly stuffed on crackers and crunchy peanut butter, and still laughing over some of the Czech's dirty jokes. By now John felt tired enough to sleep for about twelve hours and he was a bit unsteady on his feet. Stifling a yawn behind one hand, John stumbled around the corner only to collide with a solid object. His still healing shoulder hit first and pain exploded into his nerve endings and John felt himself turn pale. He bit his lip to hold back a cry, but one escaped as he was thrown back by the impact and hit the wall. Head first. The lights went out and John slid into darkness.

He didn't hear Rodney's panicked cries for help.

**THE END...of part 10**


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Emrys, I'm glad you didn't wind up with colored anything (hehehe, would've been funny though). As for the rest of you, send the evil cliffie blame to Shelly, she's positively diabolical that way (and here I thought I was good in that area)! As always, the bunny is scarfing up the reviews and the comments make our day...

**Not the Daddy…part 11**

**Pregnancy clock: 3 months, 3 weeks**

"I can't believe I knocked out the knocked up man."

"For the hundredth time, Rodney, it wasn't just the wee bump he took from you. I've told you the colonel is prone to all sorts of things you'd associate with a delicate constitution -"

Sheppard squinted his eyes shut tighter. If only he could have stayed out of it for another thirty-seconds he wouldn't have had to hear that last part.

Opening his eyes for the sole purpose of glaring at the two of them, he protested, "I don't have a delicate constitution," but it came out dry and squeaky, instead of strong and steady.

Rodney was not far from his bed, and bounced on his heels, hands behind his back and sang sotto-voice, "Denial ain't just a river in Egypt."

It was a toss-up who scowled harder, Beckett or John.

Sheppard purposefully ignored McKay, and rolled slightly off his back, groaning. "Doc, I hope nothing reopened." His head pounded and the queasiness was present in the background, just enough that he knew sudden movements were a very bad idea.

Beckett folded his arms across his chest, and Sheppard could see the lecture mode coming, and wished suddenly he'd just kept his mouth shut and gone back to sleep.

"Nothing busted open, but it'll be sore for a few days. You've got quite the goose egg on the back of your head." He seemed to reel himself in a bit before continuing. "Colonel, you've got to understand that though the actual shape of your body won't be changing, your mind thinks it is. Your sense of balance, ability to recover, everything is suppressed, off-kilter, to be blunt, you're not being careful enough."

"He ran into me!" John spluttered, all righteous indignation.

What he didn't do is deny the changes in his body that Carson was talking about. And that was a big step, one that wasn't lost on either McKay or Beckett.

"Aye, but two months ago, in the same situation, you would've shoved him off, had a less than pleasant exchange, and met each other for lunch an hour later. This isn't two months ago, and you need to watch where you're going in the halls. Avoid situations that might not have presented problems before. I imagine the workouts with Teyla will come harder, though you should continue, just learn to listen to your body."

Sheppard couldn't believe the nerve. He was ran down in the halls by McKay, and who was getting the lecture?

Rodney shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of the growing heat coming from John's direction. "Thank you, Carson, I think you've done enough."

Beckett seemed to want to say more, but he grumbled something under his breath before saying, "You'll be staying overnight, Colonel. If you're feeling well in the morning we'll see about letting you go, but remember, drink those shakes, and listen to your body. If you feel dizzy or tired, stop and rest. And, later we'll be finishing the exam from the other day."

Sheppard watched Beckett leave, and found himself suddenly apprehensive. He didn't want another exam. He wasn't sure he could deal with it. Hearing that heartbeat – that was something he wasn't quite sure of, how to think or feel about it. He was mesmerized, terrorized, and thoroughly stunned.

He found himself reaching for his stomach, and his hand met air where he thought there should be skin. He looked down confused, and noticed his hand was about a foot away from his abdomen, and he'd expected it to stop there. That was weird. He finished the distance, and rubbed absently.

"What are you doing?"

His hand stilled, and he realized McKay was watching his stomach.

"You're not going to throw up again, are you? Because as much as I'm worried about you, the whole throwing up process, it's starting to sour my stomach."

"Can I ask you something?" Sheppard was watching him intently as Rodney moved forward to slide into the chair that was closer to John's bed.

McKay slouched against the hard plastic backrest, and nodded. "I imagine I'll even have an answer for you."

"How's it happening?" John's voice was so quiet that it was almost lost under the sound of the air refresher pipes.

"Happening?" McKay sat up a bit straighter. "What?"

"This pregnancy thing. I don't get it. I mean, the bond, fine, and even being connected to her physical state, you know – getting sick, tired, but the rest of this," Sheppard almost stopped. He had been so busy telling everyone that he wasn't pregnant, that he never stopped to ask how. He knew the why. Dreya was a grieving widow, and she made an impulsive decision. He could relate to that. But the how – hearing the heartbeat pretty much destroyed every last shred of disbelief he had been mustering to keep his sense of reality solid. It was like someone building a foundation on quicksand. You can deny what you can't see. What you can't hear, or feel.

"Rodney, I heard the heartbeat. And just now, I reached down, and was going to rub a belly that doesn't exist on me. How? I thought this was just – I don't know, but pregnant? Men don't get pregnant, and I'm _not_, but these tests and the medical problems, and the heartbeat, it's –"

He was stumbling around like a blind man, and wanted to take back every single thing he'd just said. Scratch that, everything he'd said since he'd woken up.

But McKay was grinning with poorly concealed excitement. "You've come to the right place, Colonel."

Rodney was so excited John could practically see the hand wringing going on in the man's head.

"While you've been…indisposed…we've done some theorizing, and between what we've gotten from Dreya and Hamas, and our own people, we've come up with what I think is a logical conclusion."

"The suspense is killing me," Sheppard said dryly. The irony of it was, he was being honest.

McKay didn't even pause. "The Eradian people at some point millennia ago developed this method of survival, maybe it was a defense against disease or falling population, I don't know, but anyway, that's not the point. The male in the bond becomes almost like a beacon, a biological lighthouse, for the mother."

"Shortly before conditions become critical, the father feels it. If there's any significant risk at hand, watch the father because he'll be affected first. It's brilliant, actually, giving them just enough time to get in there and possibly save the baby."

McKay paused to see if the impact was getting through to Sheppard. He kind of nodded half-heartedly.

Apparently, Rodney took him for being less than impressed. "Don't you get it? This is an amazing evolutionary concept. Back in Earth's early days, even up to the last century, more women were lost in childbirth then," he stumbled for a minute before waving his hand in annoyance, "I don't know the exact number, but it's huge, and the baby died with the mother in most cases. With this bond, complications with the baby bypasses the mother link and sends the information to the father, and the sensations are read quicker. It's amazing. Think along the lines of the Ancients attempt at continual redundancy, for all we know, they could've been responsible for this. Anyway, in order to be effective, the father's got to have almost every single physiological change along with the mother."

Rodney narrowed his eyes at Sheppard, who appeared to be slipping into a dazed confused state. "You still following me?"

John could only nod dumbly. Does it count if he was following it, but wishing he weren't?

Apparently, McKay was satisfied, and continued, "Basically, the only thing missing is the physical body of the baby inside your, ah, stomach."

"But _how_?" Sheppard still wanted to know. Maybe if he did, he could find some way to stop this. He didn't stop to think about the fact that the entire scientific department had been spending almost the whole time since he'd been bonded working towards the same goal, and been unsuccessful.

"I'm getting there, patience, Colonel. As far as we can tell, the bond works like a transmitter. The closest phenomena you can compare it with are waves of energy, think radio waves, or light. Your body is accepting the transmissions, and translating the information into the physical representations, made possible when she bonded you."

Rodney seemed to draw in on himself, and cocked his head slightly and the excitement was replaced with a puzzled look. "The only thing we truly don't understand is how it works with the distance separating you from Dreya. The foremost idea we had for breaking the bond would be to increase the distance until you can no longer receive these transmissions. However, seeing how you're light years away already, that rules out our best option. Since you felt the loss of the one baby before Dreya, there is little, if any, lag from Dreya to you."

Sheppard considered the whole shebang, and had an idea, "Waves can be blocked, right?

Rodney took a moment to catch his breath. It wasn't that his explanations didn't tend to ramble, they did, it was more along the lines of what he'd just said had been more concise and rapidly spoken than what was even usual for McKay.

"Theoretically, yes, but we've been trying different scramblers and screens."

They'd been trying to block the bond. Been trying. "It hasn't worked," he said flatly.

Rodney stared at him, and shook his head. "No, it hasn't. We thought, there for a while when you improved, but it was just Dreya -"

Things locked into place. "That's why you've been going back so much to talk to Dreya," he accused.

"It wasn't just that, though it was a part. Sheppard, you've got to admit, this is fascinating! Do you realize if we could figure out how this bond works what it would mean? There wouldn't be any more problems with a doctor not understanding what a patient was feeling. No more 'on a scale of 1 to 10 how bad is it? It's amazing!"

"And the fact that it's me, and not you makes it even better," Sheppard grimaced, and found his hand moving lower and rubbing again, before he stopped and pulled it back as if he'd been burned.

Rodney snorted, "You positively glow – when you're not puking. It'll be good for you. You can learn about the other side you're always so busy chasing."

"I'm not always chasing! They find me, and besides, I've never gotten a girl pregnant, not here or anywhere else. And, I've heard the rumors about you and that one scientist, what's her name?"

McKay flushed, and retorted, "Not the one pregnant."

"I'm not -" he started, only to stop. Because son of a bitch if he wasn't. "Pregnant," he finished lamely.

"You so are," argued Rodney.

"Maybe I'll take you back to Eradia and find some other pregnant woman to bond you, see how much you like it." Sheppard kind of liked that idea, actually. Heck, maybe he could volunteer all the men of Atlantis. Have a baby marathon and hey, Beckett. Now that had possibilities. All the lectures and haranguing he'd been doing lately, see how much he liked the shoe on the other foot.

McKay's flushed face suddenly paled. "That's not funny."

"It so is," mocked John.

And then his queasy stomach surged, and he found himself rolling over, scrambling for the basin that Beckett was always keeping next to his bed. He heaved until he got lost in the spasms of his stomach, and was left panting and weak in the bed.

The sound brought Beckett out, and he shooed McKay out of the way, before helping to wipe Sheppard's face, and give him a rinse for his mouth. "There, now, it's over. How do you feel?"

Truthfully, he felt better, and he smiled easily. "Not so bad now."

"No kidding, you just emptied twenty-four hours of attempted digestion, let me guess, you're hungry?"

"Well, actually -"

McKay stood up, and his hands straightened his pants as he said resignedly, "I'll just go get some of that blue Jell-o from the messhall that you seem to be eating more than your fair share of. But when I come back, I want a promise that 'Rodney' or 'McKay' will be somewhere in the babies name. It's the least you can do if I have to wait on you like this."

As Rodney left, Sheppard couldn't help but shout at his back, "It's not my kid to name, but even if it were, I sure as hell wouldn't name it RODNEY!"

Beckett was hovering, and pushed him back against the mattress. "Calm down, Colonel." He pulled the thermometer off the wall behind Sheppard's head and ordered, "Open."

Sheppard shot him a dirty look, but did it anyway.

While they waited, Beckett waved a nurse to bring over the portable blood pressure machine, and started making notes in his chart. His prenatal folder. Beckett hadn't gotten rid of it, no matter how much he bitched. Figures.

It beeped complete and Beckett read the number, nodded, and slapped on the cuff. The thing squeezed his arm till the thought it was going to cut off his circulation before finally beginning the slow deflation downward. Carson wasn't happy with the numbers judging from his frown. "A little high, Colonel. You need to stop getting so riled up. Stop letting things get to you."

"Maybe it's high because someone insists on using a prenatal folder to record every single thing I do in this place," he growled.

Carson didn't take the bait. He got out the Doppler and Sheppard had a sudden return of queasiness, but oddly, he was also a little…excited. Conflicted. Absolutely, totally, conflicted. He watched as Beckett dabbed the jelly on the end of the wand, and stubbornly kept the blanket pulled up to his chest.

"Colonel, don't be childish," remonstrated Beckett, tugging the blanket down.

"Childish? Childish?" he echoed disgustedly. "Childish is throwing a fit when you get shorted a lollipop after getting a shot, or sent to bed with no dessert! Childish is not having a doctor pulling up your shirt to listen to a heartbeat that isn't even there!"

"Blood pressure, Colonel."

Right. His pressure was probably through the freaking roof at this point, and seeing how high Atlantis's roof is, that was pretty high.

The jelly was a repeat of the experience earlier, very cold, but this time he didn't flinch. The thub-thub of his own heartbeat pounded into the air, loud and strong, but this time he knew it wasn't the baby's. A few moments later, it was overcome by a strong and amazingly fast 'whush whush', and Carson announced, "One hundred fifty seven, nice and strong, maybe a girl."

"A girl? You can tell the sex of the baby off a number?"

Carson grinned a little and explained, "It's not really proven, but there has been some studies that show a correlation in heart rate to gender. A higher heart rate can indicate a girl, slower, a boy."

They were both startled when Rodney dropped the bowl of Jell-O, standing just inside the doorway, and said, "Is that the baby?"

"No, Rodney, it's the little alien pet I swallowed three weeks ago."

Sheppard felt awkward. Only three people had heard and experienced the solid proof of his condition. He hadn't wanted anyone else to hear it. Maybe it was irrational, maybe even childish, but he felt like he was the pregnant teen confronting his parents with proof that he'd had sex, which made absolutely no sense at all.

"It's amazing," McKay said, not even taking the bait from Sheppard's acerbic comment. He walked over, stepping around the mess he'd made on the floor, and looked at the machine in Beckett's hand. "Can I?" he asked, moving a hand towards the Doppler.

Carson shrugged, and handed it over.

Now this was really tripping Sheppard out. "Uh, my body guys," he said, pushing the machine off and doing a mental yuck when he got the jelly on his hands again, because that felt gross. "Could you at least ask if you want to listen to the Colonel Sheppard's Freak Show Hour?"

But Sheppard realized he wasn't having any affect on McKay. Rodney was still staring shell-shocked at the machine, and then back to John, and he had this very scary gleam in his eye. Oh, shit.

OoO

A week later, John sat staring at the calendar in his quarters. Four months. He was four months pregnant, _no_, scratch that damn it, SHE was four months pregnant. He was four months pregnant via screwed–up-alien-bond-that-should-never–have-happened. He was having a hard time keeping a line between the two. He now frequently reached for a stomach that wasn't there, and when meeting air, moved the rest of the way in, and rubbed without even knowing it.

Elizabeth had gotten him started on learning Ancient. He was still working out with Teyla. And, the throwing up had fallen back to every other day. He was pretty sure the shakes had helped with his weight loss, but Beckett would let him know soon enough. Sheppard had an exam scheduled for tomorrow. It was supposed to be today, but he'd begged off complaining of too much work. He was convinced Carson knew it for the lie it was, but you do what you have to, and right now he wasn't sure he could face the scale, the peeing in the cup, the chatter from the nurses and the heartbeat…always that damn heartbeat that amazed him and made him sick and angry at the same time.

Since that day a week ago, McKay had been sticking to him like Velcro. He showed up with blue Jell-o at night, and with saltines in the morning. Hearing the heartbeat had been the equivalent of a positive paternity test, which made no sense at all to John. He was tempted to ask McKay just what the hell was wrong with him, but hadn't gotten up the nerve. Maybe McKay had been deprived as a kid, who knows, but he was so not going to ask Dreya to name the kid Rodney. Maybe John McKay and whatever her last name is, but only if she agreed to relocate permanently to the Athosian settlement. No kid of his – shit – no kid named after him was going to be culled by the wraith.

He'd brought it up to Elizabeth yesterday. This thing with Dreya, her living on another world, and though it was safe for her now, what happened if their defenses failed? She'd argued that it was Dreya's right to live where she chose, and that while she was thrilled he was taking an interest in her, on the other hand, he didn't have much right to go around demanding she up and leave her people. John wasn't so sure of that. Dreya had given him some rights when she bonded him, whether she'd meant to or not.

He had, however, gotten Elizabeth to agree to him and his team returning to Eradia. It was just a matter of scheduling a day to go. McKay was up to his eyeballs in some power issues with keeping Atlantis cloaked, and Teyla and Ronon had slunk off to the mainland. Teyla had been working on Ronon's animosity towards Dreya, and it seemed to be helping. Sheppard had thought about having more words with him over it, but it was kind of hard when he himself sometimes found himself so damn mad that the very thought of her made his head ache. It was usually the times he found himself falling asleep in his chair, throwing up, tripping over his feet, or pushing a hand against the growing ache in his back.

He glanced down at his desk and stared at the copy of What to Expect When You're Expecting. It was a gag gift. He wasn't quite sure it was Zelenka this time, because the Czech was usually more overt. It had appeared at his front door during the night a few days ago. The irony of it, was that he'd started reading casually, and found himself relieved to find that backaches, increased peeing, puking, and the newest member to join the party, heartburn, were pretty common. And then he'd wondered how on earth the human race had managed to continue. If he was a woman, you can be damn sure he'd never do this again.

He shoved the book under his copy of Peace and War, and flipped the calendar over so he didn't have to look at it. It had been Kate's idea. She'd said it might help him keep track of things and feel more in control. Control. That was ironic. What part of control could he possibly have? He wanted one thing, and his body kept doing something else. Something being sent from some other distant world, and so far, nothing anyone had done was able to change that.

He dropped into his bed, and looked at the clock, feeling that anger towards Dreya mount again. It was only nine-thirty at night. Ridiculous. Sheppard knew if he tried to stay awake, he'd only get a stiff neck and sore back for his trouble. He stretched out, fluffing the pillow under his hand, and thought again, four months – sixteen weeks. Only twenty-four to go. That's not so bad. He could do this.

A flip in his stomach stalled his thoughts. Was he going to get sick again? Another flip. He'd felt something like it over the past couple of days but it'd been so slight, he'd thought maybe he imagined it, but suddenly he knew exactly what it was. The baby. A rapid flip and it felt like something turned inside, but it was feather light. And suddenly John felt the tiredness evaporate like a puddle on a hot summer day. He jumped up and pushed at his stomach, willing it to stop, to get out. This was it. Elizabeth had said to be prepared. Now he knew the truth. There hadn't been anyway to prepare.

He wanted to feel it again, but he wanted it to stop. It scared him crazy, and made him think of Dreya.

The sound of his door opening caused him to look up, and he knew he had that deer in the headlights look on his face. McKay put the blue Jell-o down and rushed over, "What's wrong? Is it the baby? Is it okay? Oh, god, she's not miscarrying again is she? Because there's only the one left -"

John shook his head, trying to stop McKay's babbling. "No, and it's not a miscarriage in the fourth month anyway," he'd just read that this morning. "It moved, Rodney."

He couldn't believe he'd admitted it.

And the giddy boyish grin that spread across McKay's face told him it was the right thing to do. And hey, he brought him Jell-O. It was the least he could do.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**NOT THE DADDY...part 12**

**Pregnancy clock: 4 months, 1 week**

Rodney told everyone about the baby moving, and that was not an exaggeration. Everyone on Atlantis knew about it and was either freaked or thrilled.

John was hedging into the freaked zone. Especially when everyone he passed by asked to feel his stomach. Teyla was the only one he let actually feel it, given as how John dropped his sticks during their practice when the baby moved again. But then he got freaked out and took off, going back into hiding in his room until Elizabeth sought him out.

So now John was sitting on the bed and she was in the desk chair, watching him. "I feel like one of those weird attractions in a circus," John finally said. "I need to get out of here for a while."

"Maybe now would be a good time for you and your team to visit Dreya," Elizabeth suggested.

"I think you're right." John could not hide his relief. "Can we go now?"

Elizabeth shook her head, a soft smile curving her lips. "I'll check with the others and you need to get checked by Beckett. When he clears you I'll figure something out. I promise you can go within the next few days." She rose from the chair and moved to stand before him. "That said, I want you to get some rest, John. You look tired."

John didn't deny it. What was the point? He was tired. Tired of being tired. Tired of being sick and peeing of hurting in places he shouldn't hurt. Mostly he was tired of the fact that he was starting to feel as fragile as Beckett insisted he was. "This sucks," he mumbled.

"I bet it does. You're not...made...for this." Elizabeth sounded sincere.

"No kidding." John had more to say but he stopped when the baby moved again. Without thinking he reached for Elizabeth's hand and had to remind himself that his belly was still flat, pulling her in until her palm rested against his lower abdomen. Then he watched her face and it was kind of a kick to see her eyes go wide with wonder. "Kinda cool...hah?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Very cool." She withdrew her hand and offered a watery smile. "I know this hasn't been easy on you, John...but you have to admit, it's amazing."

It was, but it was still overwhelming. John managed to smile at her. "I guess it is, but I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat if I could." And he meant it, even though he felt a twinge of something that might have been regret. Which he promptly ignored. Men weren't supposed to experience pregnancy like this. No matter what books he read, no matter the reassurances that Beckett gave him, John was not prepared to go through this. Period.

"Rest," Elizabeth said gently, nudging John down onto his back. Then she drew the covers over him. "I'll contact you when I get things sorted out."

"'Kay," John mumbled, eyes closed and already half asleep. In fact he didn't even hear Elizabeth leave. He was already wrapped in darkness and dreaming.

OoO

Elizabeth gave them the 'all clear' to head for Eradia. John was excited. He was tired of being relegated to doing paper work. He wanted to do something more physical. More meaningful. Hell...he just wanted off of Atlantis and what felt like a thousand prying eyes. He was in such a good mood at being able to go that he was able to tune out Rodney's complaints to Elizabeth that he shouldn't be allowed to leave. That he was too fragile in his condition and other such rubbish. John had faith in Elizabeth's ability to override Rodney.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later they were in the Jumper and John was preparing to fly them through the gate.

"This is a bad bad idea," Rodney muttered beneath his breath.

"It's a good idea, Rodney," John replied, still holding on to his good mood, even though his stomach was feeling a bit queasy. Not to mention the fact that his lower back was aching, but John could ignore that. He was almost through the gate. He clicked his radio. "Jumper one is ready to go," he stated.

A click then the reply, "Jumper one is clear. Good luck, Colonel."

Then Weir jumping in with, "Be safe."

"Will do," John acknowledged, then he turned to grin at Rodney, who was seated behind him. "Hang on...we're going through." With that he sent the jumper through the gate to freedom.

oOo

Things never turned out the way John wanted them too. Proof of that was the fact that instead of greeting Dreya and her people with smiles, he had turned green and headed for a nearby bush, only to have Dreya join him a moment later. What pissed John off was the fact that she puked just a tiny bit and here he was, curled up on the floor in their bathroom. A great big ball of misery, was he.

The door opened and Dreya stepped inside, holding a cup of something that was steaming. She knelt beside him, her eyes dark with sympathy and guilt. "This should ease the sickness," she said, holding out the cup. "Just take a few sips."

John felt so miserable he didn't argue the point. He just took the cup and took a sip. Amazingly, his stomach started to settle. "It works," he said, showing his surprise.

"I gave some of the root to Teyla," Dreya said softly. "She will show you how to make it into tea when you get back to Atlantis."

"Thanks." John took another sip then set the cup aside. He accepted the cool cloth that Dreya held out and wiped his face, then he studied her and said, "You look good."

She smiled shyly. "Thank you. I feel well." The smile faded and she shifted to sit beside him, one hand moving to rest on her rounded belly. Just a small rounding, but still there. Still obvious. "How are you feeling, Colonel?"

John sighed then decided to be honest with her. "I have my good moments and my bad moments. This is really...strange."

"You felt the baby move?" Dreya asked.

"Yeah...and heard it's heartbeat. That was cool." John smiled at the memory of that.

Dreya looked stunned. "You could hear the heartbeat?" Her hand brushed over her stomach as she spoke and she sounded wistful.

John realized the Eradians didn't have the technology that Beckett did. "You could come back to Atlantis and Beckett could let you listen," John offered. "It's amazing." Which was the simple truth. IT was amazing.

"I think...I would like that," Dreya allowed.

"Good. You want to come back now?" John was hopeful. He really wanted Dreya to come and stay on Atlantis. He and Beckett had talked about when Dreya went into labor. It would be best if she were on Atlantis in case of complications. Complications that could cost John his life. And hadn't that been a scary conversation. But John had asked to know the facts and Beckett had supplied them. Now with Dreya coming to Atlantis, they could work on her about staying on the mainland and Beckett could convince her to be on Atlantis for her delivery. Which would make John feel a whole lot better.

Dreya looked thoughtful. "I will prepare my things soon," she allowed. "I wish for us to talk first, Colonel...if you don't mind me getting a bit...personal."

John almost laughed at that. "I'm sharing your pregnancy, Dreya. You can't get anymore personal than that so...go ahead. What's on your mind?"

"First...I wish to apologize again for what happened," Dreya stated. "I have been talking with your Doctor Beckett and with Teyla, and I know that you feel things deeply. That you suffer for me, so to speak. We do believe it is because of the strength of your gene. I mean...it is normal for a bondmate to feel things first...but to feel them as strongly as you do...to take the worst of my symptoms…that is unheard of among my people."

"Yeah...well...lucky me," John grumbled, then he wished he could take back the words when Dreya's face fell. "Hey...I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I mean...I do mean it...sincerely." John realized he was putting his foot in his mouth repeatedly, so he took a breath, exhaled slowly, and tried again. "This is freaking me out, but it's pretty amazing too. I mean...someday when I have kids of my own...my wife will thank you for this experience." John tried to keep his tone light, to sound almost teasing, but there was a sincerity behind what he said. Not that he planned on getting married ever, given his parents destructive marriage, but one never knew. Maybe he'd get lucky some day for real.

Dreya locked eyes with him, as if searching for the truth. Apparently she found it because she smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Colonel. For saying that. And for not hating me."

John simply nodded. No point in admitting that sometimes he did hate her. But that was only when he was feeling truly miserable. Which, at the moment, he wasn't. In fact, he felt pretty darn good. "Hey...want to go for a walk? You can show me around the place. Last time I was here I didn't get to see much of it."

"I would like that," Dreya allowed.

"Good." John got to his feet then offered a hand to pull Dreya up as well. He followed her out and they informed the others of their plans. Then they were outside and John soaked in the scenery and the fresh air and sunshine. He fell into step with Dreya and they wandered about as she showed him her world. John found himself relaxing and enjoying himself until a niggling ache in his lower abdomen became an irritating ache. Then it became a shooting pain that had him worried. "Dreya...are you feeling okay?" John asked, just before a sharp and burning pain had him falling to his knees.

**THE END...of part 12**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: **Dr. Dredd, yes, shades of 'the best intentions' are definitely here, the only problem is poor Dreya was only looking out for herself, but don't we all tend to do that from time to time? Loved your fic on the emotional toll to Beckett! Titan, hopefully we won't start boring people, but we don't want to speed through it and lose out on all those fun moments along the way. And, of course, the whumping opportunities! (evil grin) Harper's pixie, no! We couldn't do that, because then it'd be over and, well, then...it'd be over! For everyone thanks for the reviews. You've fed the bunny so much it won't let the story be!

**Not the Daddy…part 13**

**Pregnancy Clock: 4 months 2 weeks**

"John! What's wrong?"

Dreya was grabbing his arm, trying to help him from falling hard, but it didn't help much. The reason was the pain. It was curling him up like a snapped rubber band on the rebound.

"Not the baby?" he gasped in between moments of pain.

She shook her head looking very frightened. "I don't think so. I feel fine."

Sheppard felt anything else but fine, and if it wasn't the baby, then what the heck was it? "Get McKay," he managed to say. He knew Rodney would get him back to Atlantis, and Beckett.

"I can't leave you here alone," she protested.

He chuckled harshly before saying, "You can't carry me, and I don't think I can walk."

It was sharp, and strong, and right below his belly button. The queasiness he'd felt when they'd arrived on Eradia was back with a vengeance, and he imagined he looked worse than he felt.

She hesitated, but when John let loose a groan of pain, she took off back the way they'd came. Sheppard tried to sit up, and found that if he sat with his back against a tree that he'd collapsed near, and folded his body over his knees, it was almost bearable.

Time seems to pass slowly when you're hurting, and he would've swore it took McKay an hour or longer, but at last Rodney and Ronon came jogging up, with Teyla, Dreya, and Hamas right behind, hot on their heels.

"Sheppard?" Ronon didn't let much emotion show. He also didn't waste breath on unnecessary words.

"Something wrong with my stomach. Dreya says it's not the baby." He hated to be stuck down like this, but the thought of standing and straightening up sent shivers down his spine. He knew it'd hurt like hell.

McKay knelt on one side, while Ronon got on the other, and Rodney tried to straighten out John's legs.

The result was a sharp increase in the level of pain, and Sheppard yanking his legs back up, along with a shaky, "Don't do that again."

"That makes it worse?" asked Rodney, alarmed.

"You can say that," replied Sheppard, still trying to get his bearings from it.

Teyla and Dreya had knelt beside them, and Sheppard was beginning to feel slightly claustrophobic.

"Do you know what ails Colonel Sheppard?" Teyla addressed McKay.

Hamas was hanging back, but he spoke up, "Should we call for the midwife?"

"I don't need the midwife!" snapped John.

"He doesn't need the midwife," echoed Rodney simultaneously.

"Then what?" Hamas asked.

"He needs Beckett," said Ronon, reaching for John's armpit and gesturing for McKay to grab him on the other side. "It's not the baby causing this."

John managed to follow McKay and Ronon's movement upwards, with their help, but he didn't straighten fully, instead he found a position, bending at the waist, and hunched over. The ridiculous part of it all was that he stopped hunching at an imaginary point where there should've been belly because his mind thought he had a bigger stomach then he did, because of the baby. As it was, he felt the pain from whatever was going on, and the discomfort from folding around a bump that wasn't there.

"Let's get you to Carson," muttered McKay.

John winced from the pain of moving forward, but admitted, "This time I'm not going to complain."

Teyla asked Dreya, "Do you wish to return with us?"

John was too busy looking down at his feet, so he didn't see the torn look on her face, but her heard the uncertainty in her answer.

"I think…maybe…I'll remain here…for now."

Sheppard watched as Hamas' booted feet moved near Dreya's. "You will let us know of his condition?"

John thought that the man might actually be concerned for him, and not just because of his connection to Dreya. It was good to know that at least they saw him as more than just a by-product of Dreya's rash decision, and didn't want him dead or anything. Or, maybe they just didn't want to be bonded to her, knowing how rough it'd been on him. Not many people would jump in line to take over when you've seen how miserable it can be.

Not that they'd seen it, but because of his teams' return trips to the planet, they knew it wasn't exactly a cakewalk being Dreya's bondmate. In fact, he wondered how easy it'd be for her to get someone to do this again if she ever remarried. Scary. But it wouldn't be him, that much he knew.

And then Ronon forced him forward, and the second his foot came down on the ground, the pain jarred up through his toes all the way to his throat as he bit back a yelp from the hurt it caused. This was going to be a long walk back to the Jumper.

OoO

By the time they were met in the landing bay by Beckett and his goons, Sheppard had never been so happy to see the doc. They wheeled the gurney up the rear hatch, and amidst a lot of grunts from the pain, John found himself on his side – they'd tried to get him to lay flat, but a fast scream from the pain that caused ended the attempt, and they let him curl on his side – and then he was rushed down the halls of Atlantis.

He screwed his eyes shut, and not from the pain, but from the staring eyes from the personnel in the corridors. He was aware that McKay was striding behind the bed, just as he knew Teyla and Ronon had split off to brief Elizabeth over the situation.

When Teyla had contacted Weir and explained they were returning with a medical emergency, Elizabeth had breathed one word over the radio. John. Then she'd said 'understood' and cut the connection.

"Hanging in there, Colonel?"

Beckett's reassuring brogue gave as much comfort as the pain medicine that was already filtering through the IV line they'd hooked up before moving him.

"Like a piton, Doc," gritted Sheppard, letting his eyes slide open slightly.

"That's good to hear, son." Beckett pushed on the corner of the gurney, just shy of Sheppard's head, and he felt them round the bend and heard the woosh of the infirmary doors. The air rushing out of the room blew against his face, and it felt like heaven. The struggle against the pain was causing him to sweat.

He was turned, and the gurney pushed against the wall, head first. Beckett ordered the techs to get a CBC and blood gas, and even while doing that nurses stepped forward and started tugging at his clothing, which wasn't easy considering Sheppard was refusing to unfurl from his position.

"Colonel, I know this'll hurt, but we've got to get you out of those clothes." Beckett spoke sympathetically but with authority. This was his domain, something Sheppard had learned a long time ago.

Reluctantly, he straightened his limbs and fought against the pain it caused. "Hurry," he hissed.

"Carson," Rodney said edging in between personnel, "Check his appendix. My sister had it when I was twelve, and she had the same exact symptoms."

Beckett paused a beat, with the stethoscope almost up to his ears, and smirked at McKay. "Rodney, would you like to take over?"

"No, Rodney would not like to take over," retorted McKay. "But Rodney has a very high intelligence, and wants to make sure his friend isn't killed by incompetence."

"Hey Cagney and Lacey," wheezed Sheppard. "If you could stop bickering and handle my - sonofabitch, that hurts," another sharp pain interrupted him.

"Sorry," instantly contrite, McKay leaned in towards John. "What can I do? There's got to be something I can do?"

John reached up and latched on to Rodney's jacket, pulling him in close, and said raggedly, "Go – away."

Rodney stepped back indignantly. "Sure, I see how it is. You only want me around to feed you. When you're in pain, you want Beckett." McKay glanced at the doctor who was trying to ignore him and continued to work on assessing Sheppard, "He's all yours, Carson. If he doesn't want me around through thick and thin, fine. Find some other sucker to be your labor coach, Colonel! Suddenly I have a craving for some blue Jell-O. Better get some while there's any left, I heard there was a shortage due to a certain individual's overeating his fair share…"

McKay stormed out of the infirmary.

Sheppard groaned, and this time it wasn't from the awful pain in his stomach. "He's got PMS, Doc. You've got to give him something for it, seriously."

Beckett rolled his eyes, and accepted a report on John's blood results from a lab tech that had entered at a run. "You're pregnant, he's got PMS, has there been a sex change virus that I'm not aware of, Colonel?"

Beckett pushed carefully on John's lower right quadrant, and pulled away, causing him to shout loudly, and try to pull his legs up.

"Ow!" John yelped.

The Doctor nodded sagely, and pulled the scrub top they'd finagled him into down, and the sheet up. "Appendicitis. Looks like you're going to have a wee bit of surgery in your future, Colonel."

"Appendicitis," repeated Sheppard. "McKay was right?" He almost felt guilty. Almost.

"Looks like it." Beckett scribbled some notes in his chart and handed it to the nurse, ordering as he did so, "Get Doctor Bailey, I want a back-up during the procedure in case there are any complications."

Sheppard suddenly really did wish Rodney was still here. "It won't hurt the baby, right? I know you said it was one-way, but you sure?"

He hurt so much he felt like his stomach had been tenderized, but the thought of it hurting the baby – well, it isn't like there was much of a choice, anyway.

"I'm sure, Colonel. We checked in on her when you were shot and neither one had so much as a twinge."

Well, he'd had more than a twinge from that, so maybe Beckett was right. Sheppard tried to take a steadying breath, but the combination of pain and the drugs they'd given him had taken their toll, and he was growing sleepy. "Tell Rodney I'm sorry," he slurred drowsily.

Beckett patted his leg through the blanket. "Aye, rest, son. The surgery will be soon and when you wake, it'll be a distant memory. I promise."

"If you can include the pregnancy, it's a deal," he mumbled through uncooperative lips.

The last thing he remembered was seeing Beckett's mouth twitch into an amused grin and say, "Not part of the deal, Colonel." And then he was slipping into a dreamless drugged slumber, where the pain didn't reach.

OoO

When he next woke up, he was relieved that Beckett's promise was good. He could feel that he was pretty doped up, but the thick padding of bandages was proof that he'd undergone an appendectomy. He felt a little fuzzy, and a lot tired, but overall, not bad. But, he was alone. And he kind of wished he wasn't. He'd spent so much time in the last month running away from everyone, that suddenly, no one was here, and he needed company.

He didn't last long before sleep reclaimed him, and the next time he woke, the chair beside him was occupied.

Elizabeth noticed the eyes staring at her, and smiled warmly. "John, you're awake. How do you feel?"

Sheppard had a rippling in his belly, and winced because it had the odd splintering effect of rubbing against his incision site. "Okay," he answered quickly, when the smile had slipped with his pause and reaction to the baby's movement. "Just sore," he assured her.

"Carson said you'll be feeling it for a while, but you should recover, if you take care of yourself," she admonished.

"Kind of hard not to when you've got an entire city hounding you to drink your milk," he said wryly.

"Maybe not the entire city -."

"Elizabeth," he interrupted. "Do you know what Kavanagh gave me last week?"

She rolled her eyes. "I couldn't even begin to guess."

"Two bottles of vitamin mixtures. He told me one was to help with stretch marks, while the other would be far better than the iron and vitamin supplements that Beckett had given me, and all with that insufferable superior attitude."

Elizabeth fought not to laugh. "Really?"

"It's not funny!" Sheppard growled, and then coughed, and almost cried when the cough caused his stomach to hurt.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to appear contrite.

He pushed against the bandage and said, "No, you're not."

The easy grin was back. "No, not really," she admitted. "It's Kavanagh we're talking about, after all."

"Exactly," he said.

Sheppard was overcome by a large yawn right after, and managed to yawn while holding a hand against his wound. This was going to get old fast. And the worst part of it, was that the incision felt stretched over a belly he didn't have. Conflicting input from his mind was making him feel queasy again.

Elizabeth stood. "I'm going to let you get some rest, John. Let me know if you need anything, all right?"

"How about an acme bond remover?"

"Sorry," she laughed, "Out of stock. I can send a message to Colonel Caldwell asking for him to bring one back?"

"No, no," he said so fast it made his head spin. He knew Caldwell was going to be returning soon, "I'll just have McKay whip one up for me."

"When he's talking to me again," he added under his breath.

Elizabeth's mouth twitched, but she didn't reply to that last bit he'd said out loud and not entirely meant to. "Rest, John."

He got the point. Coddled, again. "Sure," he agreed, sliding back down gingerly, and moving his head about trying to get the pillow comfortable. "Thanks for the visit," he added sincerely as she walked away.

"You're welcome."

After she left, he thought about crazy coyotes running off cliffs and into rock walls until he did fall back asleep.

OoO

When he next woke up, he found a bowl of blue Jell-O and a note on the table by his bed. Sliding up gingerly to where he could reach and pull it over without yanking on his stitches, Sheppard unfolded the piece of paper.

_I'm still your labor coach._

_McKay_

_P.S., if you keep eating this stuff you're going to turn into a smurf._

Sheppard grinned, and tossed the note to the table, picking up the bowl and scarfing down the dessert. It was the only food that never made him sick. Some day, when this was over, he wouldn't ever eat blue Jell-O again, but for now, you do what you have to do.

He wasn't surprised when Carson popped in to check on his wound, and do a quick exam. When Beckett passed on a heartbeat check, Sheppard felt oddly deflated, but he kept it to himself.

"Another day, and we'll get you settled back in your quarters, but no sparring, or exercise of any kind, and you'll have to come back daily for wound checks for the next week. If everything heals well, the stitches should come out in about seven to ten days."

"Great," said Sheppard.

"Chin up, son. Look at it this way, better it happened now than later."

"Do you have any idea how weird it is to feel like your incision is stretched out, and kicked from the inside? How is this better?" Sheppard couldn't help arguing that point.

But Beckett hadn't lost sight of the big picture. "And you'd rather it hit while your out fighting the wraith?"

"No," he retorted crossly. "But it isn't like I'll have much opportunity for that any time soon." And now he just sounded petulant because really, who _wants_ to fight the wraith? On any other day, he'd just as soon avoid them.

"And Elizabeth was only this morning telling me how well you've adjusted," muttered Beckett.

"Funny." Sheppard tried to roll away, but halfway there he was hit by a sharp shooting pain. "Ow ow ow," he chanted, trying to suck away the pain.

Carson was instantly back in doctor mode. "What is it, Colonel? You're incision site?"

He reached for Sheppard's shoulder and as he rolled the man back, John howled, and then stopped just as suddenly, rubbing just above his left hip.

"I don't know what the hell that was, but it hurt. And then, it was gone. What now?"

Beckett was gazing pensively, and asked, "Did it hurt only when you went to roll, and not before? Movement made it hurt a lot more?"

"You were right here - yes, and yes!"

"Seeing how it isn't on the right side, my guess is you just got a dose of round ligament pain."

Round ligament pain? "What the -," Sheppard bit back the swear word, and counted to ten before resuming, "what is it? Just, tell me what it is, so I can make sure to never do it again."

"The muscles that attach the uterus to the insides of a body -"

Beckett didn't get any farther, because Sheppard's eyes had widened in disgust. "I. Don't. Have. A. Uterus." He said with surgical precision. "What I have are –"

He lifted a hand and fisted it with frustration, "_Manly_ parts. Are we perfectly clear, because the fact that you've been to medical school, I just assumed you knew that men don't have uteruses!" The calm precision was slipping into barely controlled hysteria.

Beckett regarded him coolly. "For the remaining four and a half months, you do, by proxy, have a uterus. And you might want to accept that, Colonel, or you'll suffer more bouts of this round ligament pain, and as you noticed, it can be quite painful."

Beckett left in a huff, and Sheppard replied loudly to his back. "I don't have a uterus!"

Alone again, he wanted to roll back on his side and sleep, but now he was afraid to go in any direction. One way would hurt his surgical site, the other would apparently piss off the phantom uterus. He felt the hate. Definitely felt the hate.

The end of…part 13


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Just a really quick "I LOVE YOU GUYS!" I'm trying to rush this up this morning in between dealing with school, and escaping schnauzer's, and a computer that is taking about two minutes just to run a simple request (ie it's about to give me the blue screen of death), so won't linger, but had to say 'Yes, this fic is a blast to write' in fact, I will admit, to laughing even while typing! And, starting with this chapter, here comes some action -**  
**

And, promise an update for Insomnia will be arriving soon, for those of you reading both!

**NOT THE DADDY...part 14**

**Pregnancy clock: 4 months, 3 weeks**

John hated resting. He hated it almost as much as he hated puking. Which, ironically, was starting to get better. He didn't puke every day now, and even when he did puke, it was usually only once. Usually. But he still wasn't putting any weight on and Beckett was threatening to put in a feeding tube. John was pretty sure he was kidding. Pretty sure.

There were other things John hated. Back aches. He really hated back aches. They sucked, a lot, especially since in order to ease the pain in his back he needed to hold himself a certain way, which just happened to make his appendix wound ache, even though it was healing nicely. It also made his, non-existent, uterus pull, and that pain was a lot more vibrant. Which, bottom line, meant that John had a hard time finding a position comfortable enough for him to sleep in. Which meant he wasn't sleeping well, in spite of the fact of still feeling so tired all of the time. Which meant he was getting cranky. No, scratch that. He had passed cranky a long time ago. Right now he was bitchy as hell and hiding out in his room. At least this time everyone left him to it, mainly because he was under strict orders - from Beckett - to rest.

But he couldn't rest and he couldn't stop aching and he was bored out of his skull. He couldn't keep down the lunch Weir had brought him either, which pissed him off as well. So, John decided to leave his room, stalking through the hallways until he reached the west end balcony on the tenth level, high above the ocean. The air was cool and crisp and John was in his t-shirt, so it was a bit chilly, but he welcomed the freshness of the air as it breezed over his skin. He sucked in lungfuls of salty air and tried to exhale out his negativity. It wasn't working all that well. But John was so wrapped up in his attempts that he didn't hear the whoosh of the doors or the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. So when a voice called his name he jumped, twisting and pulling everything at once. "Shit!" John hissed, curling one arm around his middle as he folded in half. Which made his back hurt more.

"Sorry...sorry..." Rodney apologized, as he moved to John's side. "I'll call Beckett."

"No...don't!" John gasped. "Just...just give me a minute."

Rodney hovered but otherwise remained still and quiet. After a time he asked, "You okay?"

John managed to straighten up without feeling like he was tearing himself apart on the inside. "Yeah...I'm good. Well...as good as a non-pregnant pregnant man can be." His words were softly spoken, but there was a thread of anger that couldn't be ignored.

"You're cold," Rodney said, shrugging his jacket off. "Put this on." He held it out.

"No." John could be mulishly stubborn when he wanted too. He was cold but damned if he would do as he was told. He was tired of doing that.

Rodney sighed, rolled his eyes, then tapped his ear piece. "Beckett...I'm bringing Sheppard in to see you. He's out in the cold and I think he hurt himself -" Rodney broke off with a yelp when John pinched him. Hard. He rubbed his arm and glared. "What did you do that for?"

John glared back. "You turned me in you rat bastard!"

"Blame yourself for that one," Rodney replied. "You're acting like a juvenile and so I'm responding to you accordingly."

"I hate you!" John spat, knowing that he could do so without Rodney taking offense. At least not permanently.

Rodney sighed again. "You hate everyone right now."

John could not, and would not, deny the truth of that. "Go away." He turned his back on Rodney, hoping the man would get the hint. Which he did not because a moment later John felt Rodney's jacket draped over his shoulders. It did feel good, easing the chill that riddled his exposed flesh with goosebumps. John knew he should thank Rodney, but he was feeling downright petty so he remained, sullenly, silent.

"Ready to go?" Rodney asked, moving to stand beside John.

"Go where?" John asked, scowling at McKay.

Rodney made a face. "I told Beckett I'm bringing you in. If you don't go he'll come looking for you and then you're really going to suffer."

John almost choked on his laughter. "Like I'm not suffering already? I doubt there is anything Beckett could do to me to make my life any more miserable than it already is." And John firmly believed what he said.

"Fine." Rodney reached for his earpiece. "If you won't come quietly then I'll just have to give Beckett our location."

"No!" John batted Rodney's hand down. He knew it was time to surrender to the inevitable. "I'll go already." That said he stalked over to the doors. Once inside, John headed for the nearest transporter. He wasn't surprised when Rodney stepped in right behind him. John shrugged the jacket off his shoulders and held it out. "Here."

Rodney glared at him. "Keep it on you idiot, you're shivering." He tried to put it back over John's shoulders.

John yanked it off. "I'm not cold!" he insisted, which was such an obvious lie but he didn't care. His bitchy-mood was ratcheting up to new levels. And he had accused Rodney of having PMS. Guess that had come back around to bite him on the ass.

"That's it!" Rodney snapped, his blue eyes just about flashing sparks. "I'm cutting you off! No more blue Jell-o for you!"

"Big deal!" John shouted back, although a tiny voice in his head screamed at him to shut up. If Rodney refused to be his blue Jell-o supplier, then he was shit out of luck and he knew it. Still, John was pissed off enough to give the voice a mental kick into the corner.

Rodney puffed up, his face grew red, a vein throbbed in his temple and he looked ready to explode. But before he could say a word the transporter doors whooshed open. Rodney turned around and stared.

So did John and knew he was in trouble when he spotted the look in Beckett's eyes. "Shit," he mumbled beneath his breath.

"Come with me, Colonel," Carson ordered. And it was very – clearly – just that. An order.

"Bite me!" John hissed, before he could stop himself. And boy, he didn't know Carson's eyes turn that shade of ice-blue. The glare sent his way made John shudder. He considered pushing Rodney out of the transporter and making a run for it, but steel fingers clamped around his arm, tugging John out of the transporter.

Carson didn't say a word as he tugged John down the corridor. He was still silent when they entered the infirmary and he pushed John towards a med bed. "Sit!" Carson's tone was sharp as a blade and reverberated in the air.

John sat. He remained silent and complacent while Beckett took his temp. He let himself be manhandled into scrubs and didn't even glare at the doc when he was poked and prodded. Then several blankets were draped over him before Beckett stuck him with an IV needle. John didn't ask what was in it. He could guess when his eyelids started drooping and a warm heaviness settled into his limbs. Heaving a sigh of relief, John slid into darkness.

oOo

Sixteen hours and a hot shower later, John felt less tired, but he was still cranky. And when the nurse tried to get him to eat he had to resist the urge to fling his psuedo-mashed potatoes at her.

Carson entered at that moment and must have been able to read the look in John's eyes. He dismissed the nurse and moved the tray out of reach before pulling a stool over to the bedside and settling himself upon it. "All right now, Colonel...are you done acting like a twelve-year old?"

"No." John crossed his arms over his chest and felt his lower lip jutting out into a pout.

"Want to talk about it?" Carson's smile was tired but sympathetic.

John knew he was being an ass and he hated the fact that he couldn't seem to stop himself. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he heaved a sigh and said, "Sorry. Just...lock me in a room and leave me alone for the next four months, one week and counting."

Carson reached out to pat his knee. "I know this is hard on you, son. And I know you're tired of hearing people say that. Maybe you should talk to Kate. She's a woman and a psychologist. I'm betting she could help you get through the rough spots."

"No...she can't." John was adamant about that. "She'd just make me more pissed off. I'm just...I'm feeling ornery. I hate that this is happening to me without my consent. I hate that I have no control over my own body. I hate my fucking life!" John's voice rose in pitch and he didn't care.

"Bottom line is that we can't change what's happened." Carson locked eyes with John. "You have to take care of yourself. You're still dropping weight and I know you're not sleeping."

John snorted at that. "How can I? Everything hurts or aches or...whatever. I can't sleep."

Carson stood up. "I can help you with that. I can give you a mild sleeping pill at night. At least until your body heals a bit more and gets back into it's normal cycle."

"Normal cycle?" John almost choked on the words. "What part of anything going on with my body right now is normal?" he countered, anger crackling through his tone.

"Colonel..." Carson began.

John waved a hand to cut him off. "Never mind. Just...ignore me, okay? Call it hormones or something."

Carson smiled. "Actually...it probably is hormones. You should count yourself lucky you're not suffering crying jags."

"Don't even go there," John moaned, burying his face in his hands. That would be just his luck to suddenly become weepy at the drop of a hat. He might as well give up his commission right now and head back to earth. His career would be over and done. And that would really suck given the fact that coming to Atlantis had finally given him his career back. "Can I go now?" he mumbled the question into his palms.

"Maybe," Carson allowed, then he tapped John's knee and waited for him to look up at him. "I'll release you to your room. But I'm going to be doing check ups, either me or a nurse, every four hours. And we'll be bringing food. You really do need to get your weight back up, Colonel. It's getting serious."

John nodded. "Fine...whatever." He picked at the tape over the IV needle on his left hand. "So...I'm good to go now?"

Carson batted his hand away, peeled off the tape and slid the needle out. "Aye...you're free to go."

"Thanks." John said nothing more as he slid out of bed. He accepted his boots and pulled them on, then headed for the door. Once back in his room he changed into sweats then stretched out on his bed. Carefully. His appendix wound didn't bother him much, and he was always hyper aware of the lingering threat of round ligament pain. What bothered him most at the moment was his back. It was a never ending ache that seemed to never entirely ease up or go away.

John tried to curl up on his right side and closed his eyes but he wasn't really sleepy. He got up and figured maybe he'd try to do some reports when a knock sounded. "Come in!" John called out, figuring it would be one of Beckett's nurses, checking to make sure he actually was in his room. But when the doors opened, Teyla stepped inside. "You're brave," John told her, unable to keep the crankiness out of his tone.

Teyla shrugged. "How are you feeling?"

"Miserable, thanks for asking. You?" John winced at his own rudeness. "Sorry."

"I understand." Teyla moved to his side. "I think I may be able to help you. Remember how I offered a back rub? Will you let me try now?"

John was about to refuse but he figured it couldn't hurt. "Sure...why not. Where do you want me?"

Teyla pointed to the bed. Lie on your side, I assume to lie on your stomach would be uncomfortable?"

"You assume right." John might not have an actual baby inside of him, but his body believed he did and acted accordingly, so lying on his stomach - his favorite sleeping position - was out of the question.

"Lie on your side then," Teyla instructed. Once he was settled, she climbed onto the bed behind him, tugging up his sweatshirt. "Relax and close your eyes," she said, then she pressed her fingers into the small of his back.

John bit back a moan as the pressure of her strong fingers made him twitch in pain, but after a moment the pain faded and he felt himself relaxing. "God...that feels good. Real good." John knew he was blissing out.

Teyla laughed softly. "I am glad. Try to rest as I continue."

"Okay...thanks." John kept his eyes closed and let himself drift on a wave of warm relief. Eventually he found himself dozing off. When he woke up, Beckett was there with a tray of food. John realized he was hungry. "What time is it?" he asked, as he pushed himself up right. His back was a bit sore, but the ache was gone. He knew it wouldn't last, but he would enjoy it for as long as it did.

"You've slept for nearly eight hours."

John was surprised. "That would explain the really full bladder." He made a mad dash to the bathroom to relieve himself. He then splashed cold water on his face to wake up a bit more before returning to the other room. "Teyla was here," he said, conversationally, as he sat down at the side table where Beckett was perched.

Carson nodded. "I know. She came by after she left you to tell me you were sleeping. I've checked on you twice. Now eat."

"Eating." John picked up his fork and dug in. Everything tasted good and, so far, his stomach was not rebelling. "Hey doc...think I can go back on missions soon?" No way in hell was he going to stay grounded for another four months.

"We'll see how you do," Carson replied. "Put on a pound or two, get back into sleeping good and I might let you through the gate. But only to places we've already been and deemed safe," he warned.

John could accept that. He smiled around a mouthful of peas then reached for the ever present glass of milk. It did not escape his notice that there was a big cup of blue Jell-o for dessert. "I guess Rodney isn't pissed at me?"

Carson chuckled. "He got over it. He seems to understand, better than you do, that you're going through a hormonal phase."

"Great." John winced at the thought that Rodney had a better grasp of his condition than he did. But he didn't want to think about it. John decided, since he was feeling a bit more human, he would focus on gaining some weight and getting back out through the gate.

OoO

John spent the next two weeks getting nightly back rubs from Teyla, which allowed him to sleep. She also, during another one of his pissy moods, offered some words of wisdom that helped John to put things into perspective. She reminded him that Dreya couldn't walk away from her condition anymore than he could. And although John had wanted to argue that he was suffering more than Dreya, given their unique bond, he didn't. He just told himself that if women could do this, he could do this, and cheered himself up further with the reminder that when it came time for Dreya to give birth, he would be - blissfully - unconscious. Rodney's constant comments about being John's labor coach aside.

Since he was in a better mood, rested and puking a bit less, John was able to gain a pound and then he was able to convince Beckett to clear him for a mission. Together they talked Weir into letting him and his team go to Baltar. A very primitive world inhabited by monk-like people. Quiet and pleasant and always willing to trade goods. So John was in a great mood when he entered Rodney's lab to tell him the good news. "Get a good night's sleep," he offered in greeting.

"Why?" Rodney asked, without looking up from his laptop.

"We're going to Baltar tomorrow. Mission time." John couldn't keep the happiness out of his voice.

Rodney's head shot up and he stared at John as if he had suddenly developed two heads. "Are you insane? You can't go out on missions! Beckett would never allow it anyway!"

John smirked. "I can and he did. As did Weir. We're good to go."

"But...but..." Rodney spluttered. "You can't go on missions," he repeated, lamely.

"Yes...I can," John countered.

Rodney shook his head. "No...not in your...uh...delicate...condition."

John felt his happiness fading. "Look, McKay!" he snapped. "I am not pregnant!" He roared the last word then doubled over and gasped, a hand pressed to his stomach.

"Oh my god! What's wrong? Is the baby coming? It's too soon. Oh, god!" Rodney was in a full blown panic.

"Chill out!" John hissed at him. "I'm fine. And I'm not having a baby...remember? It's just...it moved."

Rodney paled then he blinked hard, staring at John's stomach. "It did?" he whispered.

John nodded, feeling a grin creep across his face as it happened again. He should have been used to the feeling now since the baby moved more and more often as time went by. But it caught him off guard every time. He was feeling a life, moving inside him. It was beyond surreal. He realized Rodney was still staring at his stomach and wouldn't have seen him nod. Without thinking he reached for Rodney's hand, pulling him in so he could press it against his flat abdomen. He saw Rodney light up when the baby moved against his palm.

"Oh...wow," Rodney breathed.

"Yeah." John knew what he meant. The baby moved again and they both grinned like fools and only then did John realize he had Rodney's hand pressed against his belly in a rather intimate fashion. Embarrassment washed over him and he released Rodney's wrist and stepped away. "Um...anyway...we have a mission tomorrow so get some sleep." That said, John turned on his heel and fled the lab.

oOo

John was in a good mood. They had stepped through the gate just ten minutes ago and he was feeling good. No puking for three days in a row. His backache was a little more than annoying, but easy to ignore, twinge. The sun was bright in the sky, the day was warm and everything finally felt right with his world. Until Ronon had to go and ruin it.

"Something feels off," he stated, as he surveyed their surroundings through a narrowed gaze.

"What are you talking about?" Rodney shot back, looking irritated. He had a scanner in one hand and a powerbar in the other.

John stopped walking, instinct suddenly kicking in and raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Ronon was right. Something was wrong. And he realized what it was a moment later when a dozen armed men appeared. In the blink of an eye John and his team were surrounded. He raised his P90 but he knew it was a useless gesture. "Shit," he muttered to himself, then he forced a smile and said, "We come in peace."

One man stepped forward, his own weapon raised. He grinned, revealing crooked teeth. "Welcome to the new world order of Baltar," he drawled. "Now drop your weapons or I kill the pudgy one first."

"Pudgy!" Rodney protested, but he shut up when a hand smacked him in the back of the head. Ronon's hand.

"Lower your weapons," John ordered his team, even as he dropped his own to the ground. He said nothing more as his hands were pulled behind him, his wrists bound. But he did bite his lip against a moan as a ripple in his stomach reminded him about his non-existent uterus. And as he and his team were marched off, John felt his stomach coil with nausea. This was not going to be a good day after all.

**THE END...of part 14**


	15. Chapter 15

AN: And here you all thought we were evil before...just read!

**Not the Daddy…part 15**

**Pregnancy clock: 5 months, 1 week**

"Sheppard," hissed McKay. "Do you have to, you know, throw up – or anything like that? Cause you look a little green - I can fake something to get them to stop…"

John was in front of Rodney, and stumbled over a thick root. His balance issues had developed balance issues. The conflicting information about a center of gravity that really wasn't his had his feet trying to compensate. Toss in the bound wrists, and staying upright was more challenging then he'd given it credit to be.

Course, then you had the whole getting queasy factor, and he wasn't sure if that was from Dreya, or the sickening feeling in his gut that he'd walked his team right into a trap.

When they'd contacted the monks on Baltar to trade for some more Pezza, a type of grain that you could grind and use in baking, something had sounded a little off to his ears, but Sheppard had chalked it up to being rusty from the lack of missions.

Realizing that McKay was still waiting and growing more anxious, he tried to talk inconspicuously over his shoulder, keeping his mouth as still as possible. "I'm fine, keep it down."

A strong kick from down below startled him. Crap, Junior was getting vicious. He'd felt skin move on that one.

Ronon was shooting him knowing looks.

"I'm fine," Sheppard hissed in his direction. There were tied up like holiday turkey's and all his team had time to do was stare at him like a bunch of worried mother hens? When they got out of this, he was going to do a training weekend on allowing your weaknesses to overcome common sense.

It was crippling to, one, bring attention to the possible weak link in a captured party and, two, pay attention to the weak link, and thereby take attention off of the surroundings and potential escape routes. Ronon should've known better. And it pissed him off to admit that he was the weakest link.

Of course, then he had to go and trip again, but this time wasn't able to catch himself. He twisted, trying to make sure he didn't smash his face, but instead he hit on his recently healed shoulder and felt a bloom of pain in response.

"Sonofabitch!" he cursed.

Teyla was nearest, and tried to stand near, the intent to help him get up, but with her hands tied as well, she couldn't do much – still, she hovered between him and one of the rebels that had stopped and headed back towards them.

The rebel sneered at the downed colonel. "Weak warriors, no wonder you needed to trade with the monks." He prodded Sheppard with a booted foot. "Get up!"

John could tell Teyla was pissed, but she kept her calm, the way she always managed to do.

"He cannot with his hands tied behind his back," she stated coolly.

If it weren't for the fact that Sheppard was still protecting his recent appendix scar, he would've said something that probably would've earned him a punch in the stomach. Knowing that he didn't really want to get hit there, not to mention it might end up with his throwing up breakfast, he rolled to his knees, fighting to move against the round ligament pain the movement caused.

Teyla and Ronon tried to create a wedge that he could lean and push against, and after a couple of tries, John was up. Tired, queasier, but up.

"Thanks," he said to his teammates.

The rebel only nodded when he got to his feet, but still sneered at the amount of effort it took, before moving forward again. Sheppard wanted to kick him in the head. His feet were free – but then he caught McKay staring at him worriedly.

Sheppard restrained himself, and that took a lot more than you'd think, and nudged Teyla to get moving. He didn't want anyone else getting used as a punching bag either. Some of the rebels looked reluctant to have them captives, and he imagined they wouldn't mind finding an excuse to use those weapons in their hands.

The remaining march to the rebel camp wasn't pretty. John tripped and fell two more times, and by the third time, the rebels in the lead didn't bother stopping, and the ones behind waited while Teyla, Ronon and McKay managed to get him back up.

They crested a steep hill, one that'd left John breathless and hurting even worse, with all kinds of things tugging and aching, only to see a large encampment below. The tents were rough, a canvas type material from what he could tell. And as they got closer, his spirit dropped even farther. Crude was an understatement for the place.

Fires dotted around, with tired looking women in dirty clothes tending steaming pots of something. Probably a stew of some kind, he guessed. Children ran about screeching and cavorting, dodging between their mother's legs, and followed by dogs nipping at their heels. They were unkept, and dirty, but at least they looked happy, he thought.

"Sit," ordered one of the burlier rebels that'd ambushed them.

Sheppard nodded to his team, and they dropped to the ground awkwardly. The rebel waved at two others, and they came over and started untying the ropes around their wrists.

When John's hands were free, he moved them to the front and fought against the horrible rush of pain from the freed circulation. He noticed the winces from his team, and knew he wasn't the only one hurting.

The only difference was that he was pretty sure it was only a matter of minutes before he lost the battle to keep breakfast down, and the constant pitter-patter against his belly wasn't helping. Not to mention, the others were sitting Indian style, and he had his legs stretched out in an awkward position, in part because of his aching back, but also because his stomach felt bigger than it was.

The big man gestured to the others to move away.

"My name is Lathos, the leader of the New Baltarian Order. You were trading partners with the former rulers of our world, the monks. You will now trade with us."

Sheppard shot a warning look at McKay to keep his mouth shut, but even while he was doing it, Rodney snorted and said, "Playground bullies don't impress us."

Lathos didn't get what playground bullies meant, but he definitely got the derision in McKay's tone.

"Really," he said, moving closer to McKay. "What will it take to…impress you?"

Rodney, failing to realize the precariousness of his situation, chuckled and said, "A brain."

The slap to Rodney's face had him reeling backward, and caused Sheppard to wince. Lathos stood over him, looking down with barely contained anger. "I assure you, Doctor McKay – yes, we know who you are – I have a brain. You will find out in short order just how much of one I have."

Lathos gestured at his men. "Take them to the tent that's been prepared."

And that's when John lost his hold on his stomach contents. He scrambled to his knees, and hunched over, throwing up on the dirt ground until only dry heaves wracked his body. An annoyed kick low in his belly made him wonder if maybe there was something more than a one-way connection. At least the baby wasn't really here, because if that were the case, he'd have a lot more to worry about than getting his team out alive.

"What's wrong with him?" barked Lathos, staring at him as if he were carrying some lethal disease.

Ronon, who up to this point had remained quiet and watchful, spoke. "Our doctor thinks it's a fatal virus. If so, you won't have to worry about your trading agreements, everyone in this camp will be dead in a week."

He said it so straight-faced that even Sheppard believed him.

"You're lying," Lathos said flatly. "Take them."

The guards hesitated, but at a look that promised trouble from their leader, they moved forward and started prodding Sheppard's team forward.

McKay, still rubbing his jaw, offered his other hand to John, who was still trying to get his feet under him.

Sheppard pulled himself up, wavering, and warned Rodney, "Next time don't piss off someone bigger than you."

"Please, the guy is a Neanderthal. He doesn't even know an insult if it smacked him in the face."

"Knew enough to smack you," rumbled Ronon.

"Even rocks get lucky," replied McKay.

They were silent as they approached the tent that was apparently their 'guest accommodations'. The guard waved the gun at the entrance, and Rodney rolled his eyes.

"See, even primitive language skills elude these people."

Sheppard almost laughed, because the guard nearest knew that something derogatory had just been said, but didn't know what. Then the guard shoved him so hard through the tent flap that he went down on his knees.

"Ow," he yelped, reaching instantly to cradle a belly that wasn't there. Did he say this was a bad idea? Because really, this was a bad idea. Suddenly the problems of just dealing with the pregnancy alone seemed insignificant. And then the queasiness reared again, and he dashed for a pot in the corner and threw up what was left in his stomach.

Lathos came in an hour later, and asked if they'd reconsidered their position. McKay asked if he'd found his brain. Now Rodney was unconscious, and Sheppard was still throwing up. The only thing coming up was bile and the water Teyla had forced into him.

He leaned against a box that Ronon had pulled from the back of the tent, and looked down at McKay. Teyla had gotten Rodney situated next to him, and it looked like all he'd suffered was a concussion from the blow, not that that wasn't bad enough. When Rodney regained consciousness, Sheppard was going to tell him that he'd either shut up, or Lathos was going to turn him into a vegetable, because Lathos didn't look the sort to keep pulling his punches.

God, he felt sick, he thought wearily. Once you started getting dehydrated, the condition itself will feed on the state, only making it worse. It was a vicious cycle. And judging from the growing headache, he knew that's what was continuing the nausea.

"We need to escape." Ronon was pacing around the perimeter like a caged lion.

"Colonel Sheppard needs help first, Ronon." Teyla moved towards the flap.

"Teyla," John called. She hesitated, looking over at him. "I'm fine," he lied.

"No, you are not," she said. And proceeded to peer out the flap, calling to one of the guards. When the guard came near, she whispered something low, and he couldn't make out what it was she said.

He lay back, giving up on trying to hear. He was almost too weak to even care. He needed to get past this queasiness, get some water down, and get his team back to the gate. Right now, he couldn't even move without wanting to puke, and despite everything, he knew if they made it back, he'd probably never be able to convince Elizabeth to let him go on another mission until after this damn bond was ended.

And, almost to spite him, he felt another flutter from below.

OoO

Sheppard woke up to the smothering sensation of someone draped over him. His eyes popped open, and he almost screamed as he saw the face of an old woman hovering an inch from his face.

"What the -" he rapidly started to push himself up and back.

"Stop, Sheppard," ordered Ronon.

John stopped, but he turned his head trying to figure out what was going on. Ronon was sitting next to Rodney, who had rolled on to his side, and Dex was whittling a piece of wood with a sharp rock he'd found from the ground. The tent didn't have a floor, so there were plenty to choose from.

"Roma is the healer, John." Teyla spoke up from the shadows past his feet. "She's agreed to try and help you."

Sheppard swallowed against the rising bile. "Rodney?" he asked hoarsely.

"Woke up an hour ago. Headache," Ronon supplied, continuing to carve.

"Great." Sheppard cringed away from the old woman as she hovered again, making him feel extremely crowded. She was leaning so close that he could feel her chest pushing against his stomach.

Just then, the baby kicked, hard.

The old woman shrieked, and jumped back, staring at his stomach like he was possessed.

Teyla stepped forward. "Roma, what is it?"

"Demon!" she shouted wild-eyed. "There's a demon in this one!"

Ronon clambered to his feet. "Shut up, old woman, there's no demon in him. It's -"

And for the first time since Sheppard had met Ronon, he found the man perplexed. He seemed as dumbfounded by it as anyone, and looked at Teyla with a look that seemed a lot like 'help me'.

"It is – gas bubbles, from the illness," said Teyla slowly, trying to find something to explain away the baby's kick.

Roma was practically trembling in fear. "That's not sickness, there's a demon in that one," she swore, and before Ronon could grab her, she'd backed out of the tent, spun around and left.

Rodney stirred, and sat up woozily, blinking at the scene around him. "Did I miss anything?"

OoO

Now, Sheppard knew they really needed to escape. Baltar's world was superstitious. The monks had ruled fairly, but with a lot of influence, and if you wanted an idea of the culture, think Salem Witch trials. They were as paranoid a bunch as you would find.

Before, it hadn't been important what kind of culture they had. Now – it was kind of important.

"They wouldn't believe it even if you tried," Sheppard argued with Teyla.

She was insisting that when Roma, or _if_, rather, she returned, to try and explain that Sheppard was experiencing a bonded pregnancy from another culture on a far away planet. John didn't think it'd work. The main reason being, this culture was as backwards as they come. The religion had the people in an iron fist. But, aside from that, Roma was old, and the healer, and even if she believed, she wouldn't want to look like a fool, or in this case, 'the healer that cried demon', he thought wryly.

Now, he could only hope, they didn't believe in burning demons from a stake.

"Colonel, are you feeling better?" Teyla asked.

"No, I'm not," he grouched. "But at least Lathos has quit trying to get us to agree to his terms, and thereby stopped using Rodney as a punching bag."

McKay shot Sheppard a dirty look. "He didn't use me as a punching bag."

"Yes, he did," said Ronon.

"Maybe we should agree to his terms," suggested Teyla. "If they release us -"

Sheppard knew what Teyla was going for, but he also knew Lathos' type. He wasn't going to let them go until he got what he wanted from Atlantis, and then his 'letting them go' would probably land them in a ditch somewhere, face down.

"If we agree, we're only signing our death warrant."

Talking died off after that, and Sheppard was partially relieved. His back was killing him, his stomach ached, and he was trying to come up with an idea on how to get his team home.

Judging from the falling light outside the flap, night was approaching. The scheduled check-in was about four hours from now. Once they missed that, standard procedure was to try and make contact every two hours for no more than twelve hours before sending a search party, and a lot of commander's discretion on when to send the rescue party in that twelve-hour window.

Knowing Elizabeth, he didn't figure her to wait past the first two-hour mark. Especially not with all those maternal feelings lately over his _condition_. Ironic that the source of so much annoyance and misery might be the key to their quick rescue.

"Psssst, Sheppard," whispered McKay.

Sheppard wondered why Rodney was whispering. "What?" Despite wondering, he whispered back.

"I've been thinking, Ronon may have been on to something."

Sheppard thought back over their capture and events leading up to now, and cast a puzzled look Rodney's way. "When?"

"The virus," drawled Rodney irritably. "Keep up with me here. Did you see the look on those guards? Imagine if they really believed you were dying – they might want to stay away bad enough that they inadvertently leave room for us to sneak out of here."

"Maybe, but I'm not dying," retorted Sheppard.

And John wasn't what anyone could consider a good actor. Besides, with that witch woman accusing him of having a demon inside, they'd probably blame his throwing up on that, and let him slowly dehydrate till he did die.

"You don't think you could, you know, moan a bit more," suggested McKay. He looked over towards the spot where Teyla and Ronon were whispering about something on their own. "Maybe roll in pain, I've seen you do it often enough in the past month to give some tips if it's not realistic enough."

"How generous of you..." Sheppard mocked. "But if I'm right, we'll be out of here by morning."

McKay shifted uncomfortably. "About that," he started to say.

If Sheppard hadn't already felt sick, he would've now. "What, Rodney? What did you do?"

"IkindoftoldElizabethwewere'ntcheckingintonightbecauseyou'dbetired,"he rushed out.

Sheppard had been wrong. He could possibly feel sicker.

"Why would you do that?" he exploded.

Rodney glared daggers. "You didn't have any business going on a mission, Colonel. Do you really think you would've been up for the hike to the monastery twice in one day? Because if you did, you were seriously deluding yourself! Someone's got to watch out for you -"

"Rodney -" started Sheppard, but he never got to finish.

Lathos and two of his goons came barging in the tent. Ronon and Teyla made a jump for them, but the goons wielded a stun pistol that none of them had noticed before, and went down in quivering heaps of flesh.

Behind them crept Roma, peeking around Lathos' bulk. "That's the one," she whispered fearfully. "That's the one with the demon in his belly."

Lathos narrowed his gaze dangerously on Sheppard, and strode forward, kneeling in front of Sheppard and yanking up his shirt.

"Hey!" shouted McKay over the manhandling of Sheppard.

"Rodney, don't," warned John, knowing it would only end in the scientist being knocked unconscious or worse this time.

Lathos stared at Sheppard's stomach, and just then Junior rewarded everyone with a kick strong enough to slightly poke out the skin. Lathos jumped back. "It's true," he breathed.

Sheppard did a mental cringe, and muttered "traitor," to his stomach.

And all Rodney could do was add, "This isn't good."

"Take him!" ordered Lathos.

The goons hesitated more than they had before, when they'd thought him possibly carrying a lethal virus. Guess demon infestation trumps fatal virus on Baltar.

Lathos shoved the one nearest him, "Now Ados, take him to the trial tent, now!"

As Sheppard was dragged to his feet, he heard Lathos address McKay. "When your companions wake, inform them that your leader Sheppard is being tested at dawn for demons. If the Seer finds it to be true, and I've no doubt she will, your friend will die by nightfall tomorrow."

Lathos finished, and stormed out of the tent, following the goons that were hauling a fighting Sheppard.

McKay was left alone, with only the stunned unconscious Ronon and Teyla across the tent for company, and whispered forlornly to himself, "Oh, no."

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

AN:Out of Phase! Nice to see you popping your head in. I've got to say, that was the main problem I worried about with the fic, not sure if Shelly did, but that people would see it and think 'nah' and not give it a shot, but it's nice to know that some doubters have tried it on for size and enjoyed it, so that's great to hear!

And all of you peoples calling us evil...ha! I warned you, so I'm absolved of all evilness...

**NOT THE DADDY...part 16**

**Pregnancy clock: 5 months, 2 weeks**

John was pretty sure he had never been so miserable in his life. He was all alone in a small structure that reminded him of a crate. A big crate, but a crate none the less. Luckily there was a window and a pot in the corner because he couldn't stop puking. Or rather, heaving. Since nobody would give him anything, not even water, John had nothing in his stomach to puke up anymore. Not that it mattered. He was trapped in a vicious cycle, brought on by severe dehydration. Even if he did have water to drink, he'd only puke it up immediately.

So he lay, curled up in one corner, arms wrapped protectively around his non existent - swollen - belly. His entire body was one giant ache. Head and back and belly. His throat burned from heaving, his ribs even felt sore. His wounded shoulder throbbed and his appendix scar alternated between burning and stabbing him with pain. Never in his life had John wished he was safely ensconced in the infirmary than he did right now. Not even when he had been suffering from appendicitis.

After a time his stomach gave up trying to come up through his mouth and John curled up as tightly as he could, closed his eyes, and prayed for oblivion.

OoO

"This is bad...really bad," Rodney muttered, as he paced the confines of their tent-like structure. "Weir won't send anyone until morning and Sheppard will be dead by then. This is really REALLY bad."

"Shut up!" Ronon hissed, moving to block Rodney's way.

Rodney slammed into Ronon, glared at him, stepped around and continued pacing and muttering.

Ronon flexed his fingers, curling them as if miming wrapping them around McKay's throat.

Teyla watched for a moment then called out to the guard. When he moved to face her she said, "I must speak with the Seer. Please ask if she will grant me an audience."

"She won't," stated the guard, letting his eyes rove over Teyla's form.

"She might," Teyla insisted, ignoring his gawking. "Please ask her. Tell her it is very important. Tell her that innocent lives are at stake."

The guard snorted but moved to his companion and whispered with him for a moment. The companion moved off into the darkness.

Rodney moved to join Teyla at the opening. "What's your plan?" he asked, sounding desperate.

"I hope to explain the Colonel's...condition...to the Seer. Perhaps she will understand and accept it," Teyla replied.

"I doubt it," Rodney countered, forlornly.

Teyla glared at him, clearly exasperated. "Do you have a better idea?" she challenged.

Rodney shook his head, looking defeated. "I got nothing."

Just then the guard returned, looking surprised. "Come with me," he said, grabbing Teyla by the arm and hauling her out of the tent.

"Good luck!" Rodney called after her, then he turned to find Ronon watching him. Rodney slumped to the floor, a hand pressed to his aching head. "This is bad," he muttered.

Ronon said nothing, silently agreeing.

oOo

Teyla was surprised to have her request granted, and she was more surprised to find the Seer was a woman of her own age. "Thank you for speaking with me," Teyla said, as she was brought before her.

The Seer nodded. "Sit and speak freely."

"I wish to explain to you about my friend. Sheppard." Teyla sat cross-legged on a flat cushion, then she locked eyes with the other woman. "There is no demon inside him."

"Lathos and Roma both felt the demon move inside him," countered the Seer.

Teyla shook her head. "Have you ever traded with the Eradians?" she asked.

The Seer looked thoughtful then shook her head. "No. Why do you ask?"

"They are a unique people," Teyla replied, then she explained about the bonding and about what happened to Sheppard and Dreya. Teyla told the Seer everything that had happened with Sheppard, talking until she was hoarse. Talking until the light of dawn filled the tent. The Seer said nothing, but soon left her to fear the worst.

OoO

John heard someone calling his name and he opened his eyes to see an unfamiliar face hovering over him. A young woman with dark hair and pale eyes. She touched his face with one hand then slid the other under his shirt, laying her palm flat against his abdomen. Right on cue Junior gave a kick. John let his eyes drift closed as he pondered whether or not today was a good day to die. To his surprise the Seer woman rose to her feet, exited the crate, and exclaimed loudly,

"The one called Sheppard is demon free!"

A stunned silence met her words, then a roar that shook the very earth.

John was confused but he was too sick to figure out what the hell was going on. When strong hands gripped him and pulled him to his feet, he didn't fight or protest in any way. Right this very moment he didn't care what happened to him.

OoO

"It's dawn," Rodney stated, unnecessarily. And at that very moment the guard entered. Rodney moved to glare at him. "Where is Sheppard?"

"Gone."

Rodney felt himself grow pale and he swayed on his feet and would have fallen had a strong hand, Ronon's hand, not caught him.

Ronon glared at the guard. "Where is Teyla?"

"Gone with him." The guard was smirking.

"You will regret what you have done," Ronon growled, and then he shoved Rodney aside to launch himself at the guard.

Rodney managed to crawl out of harms way, at least at first. But a dozen other guards joined in the fray and, eventually, Ronon went down. Rodney didn't have any weapons to help Ronon with and he felt sick from his head injury, so he was easily subdued. As he was dragged off behind an unconscious Ronon, Rodney realized he didn't much care what happened to him now. Sheppard and Teyla were dead, and even his genius mind found that concept hard to process.

OoO

John felt softness under his head and cool wetness against his lips.

"Drink," said a soft voice. An unfamiliar voice. John peeled his eyes open to see a strange woman holding a wooden cup to his lips. He lifted a hand and, clumsily, pushed the cup away.

Suddenly Teyla was there, smiling at him. "It is juice, Colonel," she said softly. "It will make you feel better. Please drink." She took the cup and held it for him.

John trusted Teyla so he took a sip and it tasted wonderful. A few more sips and the ache in his temples eased a bit. "What...what happened? I'm not dead. Am I?" He gazed about and realized he was in a tent, but a nice tent, rather lavishly decorated. And he was lying on soft furs with pillows piled around him and warm blankets over him.

"You are very much alive," Teyla promised. "The Seer spared your life."

"Don't take this the wrong way but...why?" John felt the baby kick and he rubbed his stomach, absently. Only to realize that a dozen pair of eyes were watching him. They were not alone. The tent was filled with women of various ages. From as old as Roma to as young as what appeared to be about 18.

Teyla reached out and took his hand, patting it gently. "I explained to the Seer about your condition, and the bond with Dreya. The women are willing to help us. But it will not be easy to get away."

That wasn't news to John. "What about Rodney and Ronon? Where are they?"

"I have bad news," Teyla confessed. "The Seer told me they believed we were dead and Ronon tried to attack the guards so he was knocked out and he and Rodney were moved to another camp. They are to be hunted and killed come nightfall. So we must move quickly."

"Hunted?" John was stuck on that word. "What do you mean...hunted?"

Teyla sighed. "From my understanding it is much like what the wraith did to Ronon. They hunt for the challenge of it."

Now that John understood, he felt anger well up from deep inside him. Like hell anyone was going to hunt his team members...his friends...hunt them like animals and kill them. He pushed aside the pile of blankets and tried to stand up. He was getting used to feeling like he had a pregnant belly, even a small one, but he couldn't convince his body that he was still fully male so his movements were awkward. Add in the weakness from being dehydrated and all the puking, John wobbled and nearly fell. Teyla and two other women grabbed him and eased him back down, holding him there all too easily. "We have to save Ronon and McKay!" John protested, glaring at Teyla. He figured she would understand but she was holding him fast.

"We will save them," Teyla said, quietly. "But you must rest and regain your strength. The Seer will help us, as I said. As will all the other women. They have a plan, Colonel."

"Oh." That surprised John enough that he stopped struggling and relaxed against the cushions. "What plan?"

Teyla reached for the glass of juice and held it out to him. "Drink a bit more as I explain."

John realized it was pretty much an order and that she expected him to obey it. He sighed a bit but took the cup and sipped at the juice. "I'm drinking...explain." He tried to let her know, by the tone of his voice, that he expected to be obeyed as well.

"The women want control of this world. They are willing to share leadership with the others instead of trying to control Baltar." Teyla shifted the blankets back over John as she continued. "It will not be easy but there are key men who, if taken out of commission, will leave it open for the Seer to take command. Then we will be able to rescue Ronon and Dr. McKay and return home."

"Do they have weapons?" John queried. He gave the cup back to Teyla, resisting the urge to close his eyes. He was still one big giant ache and more tired than he could ever remember being. However, he was NOT really pregnant and he was still the head of his team and he was NOT going to lay here and let Teyla and the other women rescue his team. So not happening.

The Seer moved to kneel on his other side, holding up a crossbow. "We have weapons. The darts are filled with something that will knock out the men, but there are only two of us who can use the weapon efficiently."

John ignored the glare in Teyla's eyes, sitting up and reaching for the crossbow. "I can use one," he said, as he fingered the craftsmanship. Better made than he would have expected. "I took archery in high school, I even competed. I like longbows better but crossbows are easy enough." He gave the explanation because Teyla was giving him an odd look now.

"You must rest," Teyla said firmly. "I will handle this."

"Can you fire a crossbow?" John shot back, almost belligerently.

Teyla made a face and shook her head. "No."

Trying not to appear smug, John smiled at her. "There you go then. You need me."

"Then you must rest first," Teyla insisted, taking the crossbow from him and handing it back to the seer.

"Fine...I'll rest a bit then we'll work out the details of the rescue. Deal?" John figured he would have sounded more authoritative if he hadn't been forced to stifle a huge yawn.

Teyla smiled and smoothed her fingertips over his forehead. "I will wake you when it is time."

John gripped her wrist, fighting against the fog of sleep that was enveloping him. "Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay." John knew that Teyla would keep her word, so he let himself drift into darkness.

oOo

The plan was as good as it could get, all things considered. John woke up feeling sick and achy, but he sucked down more juice, managed something that resembled soggy toast, then got up and worked out a plan of action with Teyla, the Seer and the other women.

The trek to the other encampment took a lot out of John and he agreed with Teyla to stay out of any hand to hand combat. He would leave that to her. He took his position behind a rock fall and put a dart in his crossbow. There were two guards in front of what would be the tent where Ronon and Rodney were being held. John took aim and fired. He got them both.

That was when all hell broke loose.

The night sky darkened quickly and panic broke out among the men. But, they had better weapons, and they started firing up at the rock fall and the other areas where the Seer and one of the other women were firing darts at them. John wished he had his P90, but he didn't so he continued firing the darts. Only now it was getting hard to see and he was firing blind and he knew this was all going to hell. The worst of it being that Teyla was somewhere in the mess of angry men and he had images of her being captured, or slain, or worse. Images that incited him to get up and head down into the camp.

Halfway there he was blinded by a flash of light and a loud zap. Eyes still spotty, he heard heavy firepower and John's stomach picked that moment to protest. He found himself on his knees, heaving. By the time he had recovered enough to lift his head, there was silence. Even as John stumbled to his feet, Teyla was there with Beckett tagging behind her. "What? How?" John asked, even as he let himself be pushed back down to the ground.

"Apparently Dr. Weir got worried," Teyla explained. She sent Major Lorne to find us and their arrival was timely."

"Rodney and Ronon?" John asked, trying to ignore Beckett's poking and prodding.

Teyla's smile covered her face. "Bruised and a bit battered, but they are fine. They are waiting for us in the jumper."

John felt relief wash over him in a wave so strong it carried him into darkness.

**THE END...of part 16**


	17. Chapter 17

AN: Okay, for those who wish the sidebar just 'kept scrolling', this segment turned out the longest of any so far, so grab some coffee (and maybe a rag for wiping the monitor)...**  
**

**Not the Daddy…part 17**

**Pregnancy Clock: 5 months 2 weeks**

When John woke next, he was in the infirmary, a familiar IV line dripping patiently into his hand, clean scrubs and blankets, and combined with the fact that he was in a bed, he felt almost human again. He also felt a reassuring kick from Junior, and with that, he thought that maybe he ought to actually think of something to call it aside from Junior, and wondered almost as much if the affects of his difficulties on Baltar had bothered the little squirt. For a while there, when he'd been throwing up, he could've swore he'd gotten a few kicks in return. Kind of a 'knock off all that heaving' notice. Was it possible that there was some connection to him and the baby?

He was too intimidated over the implications to talk to Beckett about it…yet. His privacy curtain was abruptly pulled back, and speak of the devil –

"Hey, Doc," greeted Sheppard tiredly.

Beckett looked tossed between being pleased that he was awake, and wanting to shake him for going and getting in over his head – again.

"Can't let you out of my sight for even a day, and you go and get yourself almost killed. Demons!" He said appalled. "Did you know that Rodney is traumatized? He thought they'd killed you, and didn't find out until Major Lorne rescued him from a rebel that was about to take out his brain -"

Carson said that part, clearly stymied at how McKay had gotten himself into the predicament, but it almost made John smile. Almost. If he ever got the chance to run into Lathos again, only one of them would be walking away, and seeing how he'd just gotten a new pair of boots –

"Is he okay?"

Teyla had said Ronon and McKay were bruised, battered, but generally fine. Had she missed something?

Carson withdrew a pen from his pocket, and started notating readings on his chart, Sheppard guessed it was how much of that IV bag had disappeared into him, since that's where his focus seemed to be.

"Aye, he's a bed over, more wore out than anything, but the concussion he got from it – it's only a precaution. He's got a fractured wrist from trying to punch the mental bloke that was attacking him, and you'd of thought we'd cut it off when we casted the bloody thing –"

"Ronon?" Sheppard interrupted, knowing that Beckett had the ability to rant second only to Rodney.

"Gone to his quarters to rest," grouched Carson. "At least that's what he was _ordered_ to do. Though, we all know how well your team tends to follow doctor's orders."

"Who pissed in your cheerios, Doc?"

John said that, and at the thunderous narrowing of Beckett's eyes, wished he hadn't. He did tend to speak before thinking sometimes, but normally he had a bit more tact then this. Guess being tired, and _pregnant_, loosened not only muscles and ligaments, but his common sense.

Carson stood calmly, almost too calmly, and stiffly forced a thermometer probe under John's tongue, before saying tightly, "Apparently it was the Baltarian rebels, seeing how they put two of you in my infirmary, and caused a lot of people to lose sleep over certain individuals who probably had no business going on a mission in the first place."

Uh-oh. John had known he'd be facing this problem when he got back, and he wasn't willing to give in and lie down, forced to stay in the city for the remaining eighteen weeks. "Now, Doc, don't be hasty -"

"Hasty?" Beckett spluttered.

This was a bigger problem than John had thought, and maybe, a retreat was in order, for now – "Well, maybe, you know, I could stay on in the city, for now," he said off handedly.

Doc didn't look entirely mollified, but Sheppard could tell the pulsing vein on his forehead seemed to recede slightly.

"I've ordered two days bed rest, which you will spend here, Colonel," he added as John started to protest, "and then another week of light duty. No buts."

Sheppard sourly watched as Carson left, leaving the curtain open. It wasn't so much the bed rest, or the down time that had him feeling suddenly cranky, but the entire feel of being treated with kid gloves. He didn't need the babying they were giving him, and he didn't think he could handle another eighteen weeks of this.

The other side of his curtain was yanked open, this time roughly, and Sheppard knew who it was before the square face peered in.

"Is it safe?" asked McKay.

"If you mean 'did the angry mean rabid doctor leave', then yes."

McKay stepped in, and pulled the curtain behind him, walking quickly over, albeit with a small amount of unsteadiness, to pull the other part shut as well. "Thank god, I don't often back down from that crazy Scott, but today I'll make an exception."

"Scared you too, huh?"

McKay spun so rapidly, denial of fear on his lips, that he began to fall to the side, and Sheppard lurched forward, trying to twist at his waist to reach for Rodney's arms, but as he did so, the phantom uterus whinged at him, and Sheppard wound up missing McKay, who fell on his ass, and shouted loudly over the pain.

Booted feet pounded towards his bed, the curtain was tossed back, and a worried Beckett took in the sight of a downed McKay, and a folded over Sheppard.

"What the bloody devil do you think you're doing? Alicia, get in here!" he bellowed, not missing a beat, and moving towards Rodney.

McKay scooted back, pushing at Beckett. "I'm fine, _Jesus_, you never take me seriously when I need it, and when I don't, you won't back off. You're worse than a mother with babies."

Sheppard was being helped into a sitting position by Alicia, and at McKay's choice of words, he cringed.

Carson helped Rodney into a chair, and then stomped off, coming back moments later with a cold cloth, and plopped it into Rodney's hand, guiding both hand and cloth up to his head. "Then stop acting like one."

McKay dropped the cloth to get a better glare at Beckett. "I'm not!"

Beckett shoved it back. "Yes, you are. How's the hand?"

"It's fine, I'm fine, can you just go. I was trying to talk to Sheppard -"

Sheppard was wisely keeping his mouth shut. He'd seen Carson angry a few times, but he really seemed done in by their recent adventure.

"I told you to stay put, Rodney. If it had been okay for you to come visit, I would've said so, and in fact, what was the result? You fell down, and could've re-injured your wrist! And, I take it Sheppard hurt his uterus when he tried to reach for you," Carson looked his way, "am I right, Colonel?"

Up to now, he'd stayed out of it, but now Beckett had gone too far. With as much dignity and distaste as he could muster, Sheppard stated, "I don't have a uterus. We've had this conversation before. And, for the record, the pain was from -" he seemed lost as to what he could blame it on because as much as it annoyed him, it'd been that damnable round ligament pain that seemed to strike him when he least expected it. Of course, that was probably the point. If he kept it in mind, and moved carefully, he was safe. If he forgot, and made sudden movements, hello agony.

McKay, having a rare moment of solidarity with Sheppard, said "It was my fault, I accidentally hit him with my cast when I fell." He jutted out his chin, just daring Beckett to disagree with him.

"Fine," snapped Beckett. "For the record, Colonel, you do have a uterus, by proxy, as we've discussed and I would highly suggest you accept that fact and save yourself further pain. Secondly, Rodney, I'm neither stupid nor blind, you were well out of reach from Sheppard, and unless you've suddenly developed a super stretching ability, it would've been impossible for you to have caused his…discomfort. Ten minutes, no more, and you," Carson pointed a warning finger at Sheppard, "ring the nurse to come and escort Rodney back to his bed, is that clear?"

Both men wisely nodded mutely.

A slow smile broke out across Beckett's face, and he turned around, and left, apparently pleased with how cowed the two had become.

And, it probably would've been all roses, if Sheppard hadn't muttered, louder than he intended, something about psychotic power hungry physicians, but he did, and all he wanted to admit about the next two days were that those were days he never wanted to relive again.

McKay had stayed, and talked to him about what had happened with him and Ronon, and how they'd thought Teyla and Sheppard killed. During the jailbreak, Lathos had fought to get to McKay, thinking he'd caused the rebellion, and that's when he'd swore he was going to carve out Rodney's brains and eat them, and hence, the broken wrist, because McKay really didn't want anyone eating his brains.

Sheppard had murmured in the right places, but inwardly cringed. Lathos was crazy, and Rodney was lucky. What that made him, he didn't know, but they'd all made it out alive, and in the end, that's what you had to take away from it all.

The next week wasn't all that bad. He rested, a lot, and felt better than he had since Dreya had essentially 'knocked him up', as McKay loved to say. He hadn't thrown up since the mission on Baltar, the tiredness had eased, and if you could ignore the backache, and heartburn, and of course being kicked a lot in places where there shouldn't have been anything kicking – okay, forget it, who was he kidding – he felt good, but he was still absolutely weirded out most of the time.

And now he was getting ready to approach Elizabeth about going on a mission. He knew she was going to react from the gut, and say no, but if he could keep working at it…maybe. John had considered a four-step plan of attack. First, let her know he was eager, and feeling good. Second, be a model patient with Carson, go to all these ridiculous prenatal check-ups Beckett had insisted on, preferably without being hogtied and delivered to the infirmary to do so, and eat. Third, he'd continue to plant seeds with Elizabeth about his state of being…and lastly convince both Beckett and Elizabeth that his mental health was as important as his physical and if they didn't let him out the gate, he was going to go _crazy_.

Sheppard walked awkwardly through the hall, and glared at anyone staring noticeably at him.

"Colonel, a minute please," called a thick accented voice from behind him.

Sheppard groaned. Zelenka. He debated running for it. The Czech had laid off on the jokes since he'd been recovering from the mission to Baltar, but now that he was officially released from Beckett's care, at least in that respect, John had a hunch that all bets were off and it was 'open season on Sheppard' now.

'Course, knowing his luck, he'd probably trip and have to get carted to the infirmary. Nobody had warned him about the clumsiness part of pregnancy, and lately he felt like all he had were two left feet, and about two sizes too big, because damn if things weren't starting to swell lately on top of everything else. His boots were starting to hurt and –

"Colonel? Is good time, baby kicking well? Emotions settled?"

Oh, for crying out loud! "Radek, if you value your life, you'll have a legitimate reason for stopping me. And," before Zelenka could talk, Sheppard held up a warning finger, "asking about _Dreya's_ baby, _her_ emotions, and anything else that might remotely resemble a certain Colonel's status, is not a valid reason!"

Zelenka seemed consternated, but quickly smiled broadly. "Rodney is planning a baby shower, and I need to locate two hundred diaper pins."

Sheppard stood there and wondered about the courage of certain nationalities.

Radek coughed, "Colonel, diaper pins? And, while you're getting those, we'd also like two hundred pacifiers and rattles." Zelenka seemed to scroll through a mental list and mumbled more to himself than Sheppard, "Rodney will just have to find cloth diapers on his own."

Sheppard turned on his heel, and marched away. His additional duty had recently been changed to supply officer. The one before, Sergeant Baker, had to return home on short notice due to a family emergency, and Elizabeth had gotten together with Kate and decided it would give him a valid way of having some kind of job in the city without feeling shoved to the side.

"Colonel? We need them by the end of the month – Colonel!" Radek finally waved a hand and shouted, "Give them to Rodney. Much Thanks!"

Over his _non-pregnant_ dead body.

Sheppard finished the trek to Weir's office, only needing to glare at a couple of people who'd seemed prepared to brave saying hello, and even something more. It was the something more that would've ended with them running for their lives.

He stormed in, his good mood having evaporated at this point, and watched as Elizabeth looked up from her work pad. Her face went from serious to pleased in ten seconds or less, but she also looked…wary.

He raised a hand and said, "Don't get up, this won't take long." And he was pretty sure about that. In fact, it'd probably go like this. 'I want to go on a mission' – and she'd say 'no'. End of conversation. Step one required tact. He needed to make sure that whatever else he did, he did not argue or sulk or any of things he tended to do from time to time to get his way.

"Colonel, you look – good."

He could've sworn she was going to say 'radiant'.

Stuffing down his annoyance he smiled. "I feel good. Which brings me to the reason why I'm here."

"No," she said resolutely.

"I haven't even asked," he protested. Not going to argue, remember, no arguing – yet, she hadn't even given him a chance.

Just then a strong kick made him push a hand against his belly and wince slightly. _Traitor_, he thought again, because she was watching him as if he were a bug in a microscope.

She slid the work pad to the side, and folded her hands. "John, we could've lost you. I don't think it's safe for you to go on missions right now, in your condition -"

"I don't have a condition!" exploded John.

Shit. So much for not arguing.

She almost verged on pity, but instead swapped it up for a sympathy look. "You do, whether you want to believe it or not. Have you heard the heartbeat this week?"

He stared for a moment then argued, "It's not a condition! It's a -" freaking condition.

She was smiling wider now, enjoying his momentary loss of words. But she also was a diplomat for a reason. She got up from her desk and moved around to face him, folding her arms and leaning against the desk. He knew it for what it was. Tactics. Move closer. Show you aren't the 'separate and above' leader, and be approachable, 'in the trenches'. It was effective, and she knew it.

"Is the baby moving more now?" she asked suddenly, throwing him off-center.

Before he even realized it, he was answering. "A little," but it was grudgingly done. "Kind of strong at times," he admitted gruffly.

"Have you talked to Kate about it?"

Sheppard had a moment of panic. How did she do that? He'd come here to institute a fast 'hit and run' in his 'return Sheppard to active status' plan, and now not only had she told him no, and he'd argued when she'd said no, but now she was getting him to talk about the baby kicking and talking to Kate.

"Uh, you know, I'm kind of feeling a little…tired," he said, backing towards the door.

The knowing smile still beamed at him. "I understand, Colonel."

And indeed she did, thought Sheppard sourly. Apparently, understood a lot more than he'd given her credit for. Crap. Phase one, busted.

OoO

The next week went by without any improvement. Sheppard had tried Beckett, only to get stonewalled. Instead of making any type of agreement over gaining so many pounds for clearance, Beckett threatened the feeding tube again, and started at him with that damnable Doppler machine. Then he'd proceeded to do a full blown examination, and gave him an appointment slip to get something called a glucose tolerance test done.

For once, John had a one-up on the doctor, and told him that the test usually wasn't done till the twenty-eighth week, according to that gag book that he'd wound up reading cover to cover, and he would wait and do it then, but not a moment before. Then Carson deflated him by explaining he'd be getting it twice, at twenty-four weeks and again at thirty-two weeks, because of the unusual circumstances he wanted to make certain things were going right, and that he'd do it, and it was up to him if it was willingly or with Ronon dragging his lily white bum down to the lab.

"He wouldn't," refuted Sheppard, refusing to believe Ronon would be that disloyal.

"You want to risk it, Colonel?"

That would be a no. This entire situation was often humiliating enough. Ronon carrying him to the lab would pretty much seal his coffin for good.

Again, his blood pressure was up, and Sheppard almost mentioned the folder again, but Carson had chosen that moment to pull out a very large needle. He wisely shut up, and the needle was suddenly not for him. Sheppard had muttered something about the Hippocratic oath, but didn't think Beckett had heard him.

And then the heart beat check. He knew now that these routine examinations were monthly in the beginning for women. When he'd found out, he'd gone off on Carson, but then Beckett had explained that the book was only talking about pregnant women, and not pregnant men, and unless he knew of any books covering the subject, he'd shut up and do as he was told.

It wasn't that the exams were that big of a deal. It was just that it was a constant reminder of his situation, and not just to himself, because god knows, he had enough private reminders as it was, especially with the kicking, and phantom aches and pains, and repeated problems with believing his belly was growing rapidly outward, but here, here it was out for everyone to see, or rather hear.

The heart beat check was the most unsettling of those. Often there was a nurse or two, even personnel getting treated for the odd thing, and every time the baby's heart pounded into the room, everyone fell silent, listening raptly. It was embarrassing. And it was amazing.

And now here he was, hiding in his room, because he'd hit a milestone and had heard a rumor floating around that someone was planning on a party, complete with a cake saying 'welcome to the 24th week of your miracle'. As fluffy as that sounded, he was pretty sure Teyla was behind it. He had to go do that glucose tolerance test in the morning, and Traitor was active as hell tonight, making it hard to sleep. He didn't think he'd ever get used to feeling movement inside, regardless of the fact that he knew it wasn't really there. Traitor, as he'd renamed the kid, because he often got him in trouble with his well-timed kicks, was in Dreya, not him – and damnit if it didn't make him just a little bit – disgruntled.

Sometimes, he found himself wishing it really was there. Why? He didn't know. And he wasn't going to find Kate and ask her to explain it to him. He reached down absently and stopped about two feet out, before moving the rest of the way down, and started to rub a sore spot. He knew the baby was getting bigger. He had a feeling of heaviness lately, not all that bad, just mildly disconcerting. He didn't even want to consider how bad it'd be in another sixteen weeks.

His door chimed, and Sheppard contemplated it. If he pretended he was asleep, they might come in anyway, or go get Beckett to check on him. It had to be McKay, Beckett, Teyla, Ronon or Elizabeth. Most likely. Nobody else wanted to risk their neck, and waited till he'd emerged from his self-imposed exile. Everyone knew now that when he retreated to his rooms, it was time to leave him alone. Period.

The chime sounded again.

Great. "Come in!" he shouted.

The door slid open and admitted Rodney. Well, better than Elizabeth or Teyla. Their mothering was driving him batty. Teyla brought him juice, rubbed his back, even massaged his swollen feet the other night. He let her because it did feel good, but then he got pissed because he shouldn't have to be desperate for that kind of attention! Elizabeth fawned over his health; was he eating enough, did he get his exam, and was he sleeping okay – but McKay, he just plowed right through Sheppard's personal space, copped feels on Traitor, and informed him that he needed to eat two servings at dinner and shooed him off to bed if they stayed up late watching a movie.

McKay bounced over, and put a hand on Sheppard's belly.

"Would you stop doing that," grouched Sheppard, pushing Rodney's hand away.

But McKay's hand popped back up, and Rodney shushed him. Traitor rewarded McKay's persistence with a hard kick. John glared, and whispered it again, "Traitor."

"Quit being jealous," tutted Rodney. He pulled a bowl of the blue Jell-o out from behind him. "I brought you something. Finally got a new shipment in."

For the past two weeks, no blue Jell-o. He'd been going through withdrawals. And then the Daedelus had finally arrived back with supplies. But that also meant that Caldwell was back.

So far, Sheppard had avoided him successfully, but he knew time was running against him. Just as he knew that Elizabeth had already briefed him on the situation.

"I'm not jealous," he said, grabbing the dessert, and sitting down at his desk, already eating the first bite with relish. "And quit touching my stomach, it's creeping me out."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Everything creeps you out. It's been months, get used to it. Besides," he said knowingly, "It's only gonna get worse."

Tell him something he didn't know. Sheppard slurped down another spoonful. "So, Teyla have everyone waiting to jump me for this 24th week party?"

McKay shrugged.

"Well, I'm not leaving, and eventually they'll have to get back to work."

"Quit being a baby."

"I'm not!" Sheppard didn't think avoiding a party to celebrate his non-pregnancy was acting like a baby.

"You are. You're having a baby, get over it already. Hello, you are six months along now, you'd think you would've accepted it by now." McKay waved his hands in the air like he did whenever he thought someone was being stupid just for the sake of being stupid, to get his point across.

"I'm not having a baby," gritted Sheppard. "You can go now. You got your nightly Traitor-check, brought my Jell-o, I'm good, you're good, go away."

Except McKay folded his arms and leaned against the edge of the bed, almost enough to topple over. "Nope. I'm staying. So, any new symptoms to talk about? Constipation letting up now that Carson's cut back your iron supplements?"

Sheppard dropped what was left of the Jell-o on the desk. "Rodney, there are some things that men do not talk about with other men. Constipation is one of those things."

"Have you started doing your kick-counts?" McKay pressed on oblivious.

Now John was getting annoyed. What was he playing at? Rodney was normally pushy about things, but this was almost intentional suicide. "Get out," he ordered stiffly. "I'm not talking to you about kick counts, constipation, or anything else related to pregnancy. If you're so curious, go get your own!"

McKay stayed sitting and regarded him smugly.

Sheppard stood up and grabbed his jacket. "Fine, if you won't go, then I will." He stormed out the door and almost peed his pants as a chorus of voices shouted, "Surprise! Happy 24th week!"

Literally stretched through the halls were personnel, headed by Teyla and Elizabeth holding a cake, decorated with a stork flying a baby in a sling across a partly cloudy sky, two large blue numbers, 2 and a 4, and congratulations in big bold blue lettering. And standing next to Elizabeth was Caldwell.

Sonofabitch.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

AN: Laura, your comments were very timely, because this chapter gets kind of serious and we get a taste for just how deeply Sheppard's really feeling this. To everyone, thanks so much, you're getting rapid updates becaues we're hopelessly addicted and enthused over the reactions! We were already in love with our little story, but knowing how much it's being enjoyed has made it all the more worthwhile, so thank you, very much!**  
**

**NOT THE DADDY...18**

**Pregnancy clock: 6 months**

John's first instinct was to back-pedal into his room and lock the door. But only two steps back and he bumped into Rodney's solid form. When John tried stepping around him, Rodney grabbed him by the shoulders and, firmly, pushed him forward. John cursed him beneath his breath.

Rodney ignored him, smiling widely.

"Congratulations, Colonel," Teyla offered, as she and Elizabeth moved closer with the cake.

"You shouldn't have done this," John said, keeping his tone polite but letting her see, by the look in his eyes, that he meant it. She really should not have done it.

Teyla merely grinned. "It was no bother," she said sincerely.

Elizabeth was grinning too. "Blow out the candles, John," she prompted.

"Candles..." John echoed, only to realize that, yup...there were lots of them bordering the cake. A glance and he added them up. 24. How...clichéd. He realized that everyone was watching him, expectantly, and an excuse bubbled on his lips.

But Rodney interjected by moving to stand next to John, leaning over the cake. "I'll help," he offered, looking strangely pleased and proud.

John didn't have it in him to burst Rodney's bubble, even though he was getting a bit creeped out. So he, half-heartedly, drew in a breath and expelled it over the cake. Basically he let Rodney do most of the work. Then there were cheers and applause and John begged Atlantis to open a hole beneath his feet and swallow him hole. Only, apparently, the baby wasn't the only _Traitor_ around.

"We'll cut the cake," Elizabeth said, handing it off to someone. "Come this way, John...there are presents."

"Presents?" John was stunned. "Wait a minute...you all know I'm not really pregnant...right?" His voice rose in the end and he was starting to panic. Because if this was meant to be an elaborate joke at his expense, it wasn't the least bit funny.

Elizabeth patted his shoulder. "We're going to send everything to Dreya for the baby."

John felt relieved yet not fully unruffled. "Look...why don't you take this party to her. Okay? Take the presents to her and open them there. That's how it's supposed to be." John felt suddenly suffocated. The walls were closing in on him and he wanted to escape. "I'm sorry...I can't do this," he mumbled to Elizabeth, then he was pushing past Rodney and fleeing down the hallway. He heard Rodney telling everyone to let him go and John made a mental note to thank the man later. For right now he was focused on stepping into the nearest transporter and a few minutes later he standing on a balcony, sucking in the cool night air.

After a time, John felt the tension leave him and as he sank down to the ground. He felt stupid. And unappreciative. He knew no one meant any harm by the gesture of the party. John knew he would be making a lot of apologies later. Heaving a sigh, he felt Traitor give him a hard kick and he rubbed his stomach absently. "Yeah...I suck," John stated. "Sorry. You're lucky I'm not one of your parents, kiddo." Another sigh and he closed his eyes and wished he could turn back time.

"Colonel?"

"Zelenka." John didn't turn but he recognized the voice. "I'm not going back so don't even bother trying."

Zelenka moved to sit beside him. "No...I would not try. Actually...I came to apologize."

John was surprised and he opened his eyes and turned to look at the Czech. "You did? Why?"

"The party...it was my idea." Zelenka looked abashed. "I had thought...well...that you would find it amusing. I was wrong."

"I see." John didn't, not really. He was still finding it hard to believe Zelenka had been behind it and not Teyla. "Dr. Z...there is very little about what's happening to me that I find amusing." Might as well be honest here.

Zelenka eyed him a moment, then nodded. "Yes...I understand now. My apologies. From where I am...sitting...this is all very fascinating. But to walk a mile in your shoes...I imagine not so much."

John was glad the man finally understood. "You really don't want to walk a mile in my shoes now," he stated. "My feet are killing me." John flexed his ankles and his toes as he spoke, wishing he had thought to put his sneakers on.

"I might be able to help with that," Zelenka offered.

"Oh?" John eyed him with suspicion. "How?"

Zelenka was grinning. "I will make you more comfortable boots. Yes?"

John nodded. "Yes. I'd appreciate that."

"Good. Is done." Zelenka stood up. "I will go back and tell everyone party is over."

"No...don't do that." John moved to rise and caught his breath when he twisted wrong. God he hated being like this. He felt Zelenka grab his arm and let the other man help him stand. "Thanks."

Zelenka merely nodded.

John remembered what he had been saying. "I'll go back to the party. Maybe we all need this. Maybe then people will move past my...condition...and I'll be able to get on with my life. Such as it is." Traitor kicked again and John rubbed his belly. He saw Zelenka watching and sighed. "Go ahead," John offered, gesturing to his stomach. When Zelenka hesitated he took his hand and pressed it to his abdomen. Traitor kicked on cue and John laughed at the expression on Zelenka's face as the scientist snatched his hand back as if it had been burned.

"I did not realize," Zelenka whispered. "So...real."

"Yeah...too real sometimes," John confirmed.

Zelenka looked regretful. "I will not bother you anymore, Colonel. That is to say...I will not make fun of you. This is...truly amazing."

John sighed. "I guess." He clapped Zelenka on the shoulder. "Come on...we have a party to attend." That said, they headed out together.

The party was still going, more or less, when they returned. Teyla brought John cake and a glass of milk and settled him into a corner of the room where they had moved everything too. John wasn't hungry but he drank the milk as he played with the frosting. He smiled at everyone who greeted him and was relieved when Elizabeth said they'd take the presents to Eradia tomorrow, to let Dreya open them. John refused the offer to go and watch. He didn't feel up to it. Even though he was connected to Dreya and the baby, they weren't a part of his life. Not really. So John basically plastered on a party smile, drank milk and stared at his watch. He was just getting ready to excuse himself when Caldwell sauntered over.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked, gesturing to the chair that McKay had just vacated.

"Of course, Sir," John made to rise.

Caldwell waved him back. "We're off duty and you're still head of Atlantis, Colonel. Relax." He smiled as he sat down. "So...I'm guessing you never signed up for anything like this when you agreed to come here."

John snorted. "I didn't sign up for anything that's happened since I got here."

"I've read Dr. Beckett's reports on you and I've talked to Weir. It's agreed by all of us that you're grounded from going off world on missions until the baby is born." Caldwell's tone was neutral, but the order was clear.

"I figured as much," John stated, keeping his own tone neutral. But he was not happy about this. He knew it was dangerous to even think about going off world, but he resented the fact that it was Caldwell laying down the law.

Caldwell leaned back in his chair, eyeing John with amusement. "Must be an...interesting...experience," he drawled.

John had to resist the urge to jump up and punch Caldwell, just to flatten the smirk off his face. But he was saved by Beckett, who approached John with a concerned expression and pulled him from his chair.

"Time for bed, Colonel," he said firmly. "You're looking tired so I'll give you a little something to help you sleep."

"I..." John began, but he broke off when he realized he didn't' want to stick around. At the same time, he was pissed at the way Beckett was babying him. John felt like he couldn't really win no matter what he did, so he let Beckett pull him away. He said goodbye as he passed by everyone on his way out the door, but then he pulled away from Beckett in the corridor. "I can make it to my room on my own!" John snapped.

Carson was not impressed with his bad mood. "Aye...I'm sure you can," he allowed. "But I'm still going to escort you and give you a little something to help you sleep. It's pretty obvious you're all wound up."

John made a face then sighed. "Sorry I snapped at you. I'm just in a permanent bad mood."

"Hormones." Carson nodded sagely.

"I am so fucking sick of this!" John thundered, and he could feel his blood pressure rising but he didn't care. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to punch the wall.

Carson was suddenly in front of him, gripping his shoulders. "You need to calm down!" His voice was sharp but pitched low. "Think of the baby!"

John lost it at that. "There is no BABY! And we both know my condition does not affect IT or DREYA! Now leave me the hell alone!" John pulled away from Beckett and headed down the hallway. But after a few steps he staggered when a wave of dizziness hit him, forcing him to stop and lean against the wall for support.

"Colonel!" Carson was by his side in an instant. "Take it easy, son. Let's get you down to the infirmary."

"No...I'm okay." John was trying to breathe slowly to help the dizzy feeling pass. "I'm fine..." he insisted, as he felt Carson wrap an arm around his waist. It really really sucked going through this. It sucked and it wasn't fair and John was tired of it. "Knock me out until it's over," he begged.

Carson heaved a sigh of his own and shook his head. "Only a few more months, Colonel. We'll get you through it. Right now you need to rest."

John stopped arguing. He was too worn out to bother. So he let Beckett take him to the infirmary. He let himself be hooked up to monitors and he welcomed the shot that sent him into oblivion.

OoO

Two weeks passed with John in a kind of depression. Beckett told him it was normal and hormonal and John was just bummed out enough not to have the energy to even think about decking him. The feeling was hard to shake. This apathy. John was tired again and he didn't want to eat and his body felt unnatural in every way and he wanted nothing more than to be left alone. So, of course, everyone and their mother kept bothering him.

Elizabeth wanted John to see Kate. He outright refused. Rodney tried to annoy John out of his mood and just missed getting a broken nose because of it. Teyla tried backrubs, which just put John to sleep and he still woke up feeling blue and moody. Then she tried to get him to learn to meditate and that got her, firmly, pushed out of his room.

Ronon was the one who came up with a workable idea. He told Weir that John was feeling closed in and that he needed fresh air and open spaces. So she agreed to let John pilot a shuttle run to the mainland for fruit. Ronon would accompany him. There was no danger to worry about so Elizabeth allowed it and John actually felt a bit excited.

The flight to the mainland was nice. Nothing spectacular to speak of, but it felt good to be off Atlantis and Ronon was good company because he only spoke when spoken too and mostly he just grunted in reply. So they landed on the mainland and were met by Halling and Jinto. Ronon went off to help load the shuttle with fruit products and John let Jinto lead him off to play.

Since Dreya was six and a half months pregnant, John had to compensate for his _non-existent_ belly, but he was able to kick a ball back and forth with Jinto without toppling over. After that Jinto took him on a tour then they ended up at some hut and were invited in for tea and sweets. John was enjoying himself. After eating they went back to the shuttle and John knew it was almost time to go, but he wanted to take one last walk about, this time near the water.

Ronon agreed, so long as he went with him. John was okay with that. So they walked to the beach then strolled near the waters edge.

"You like water," Ronon stated.

"Yeah...I miss it." John thought, wistfully of surfing.

Ronon stared at the water. "You miss home?"

John considered. "I miss...normal."

"I do not envy you this," Ronon said. "But you are handling it well. Better than I would."

"I'm not handling it at all," John countered, because he felt the need to be honest. "I hate this, Ronon. It's freaky and scary and I am so not cut out to deal with it."

Ronon said nothing for a time, they just continued walking. But eventually he asked, "Do you feel violated?"

John froze at the question, not looking at Ronon as the meaning sunk it. He hadn't really thought about it. He had been angry at Dreya at times for forcing this on him but he hadn't really thought of the true implications of what it meant. Feeling Ronon's gaze heavy upon him, John finally replied, "Yeah...I guess I do. Sometimes."

"Maybe you should talk to someone about it." Ronon offered these sage words then said, "We need to head back."

"Okay." John was too lost in thought to argue. Just when he thought he'd faced everything, life sucker-punched him with something else.

The ride back to Atlantis was heavy with silence.

**THE END...of part 18**


	19. Chapter 19

AN:Lilas and rogue, not sure what time zone you're in, but here's the next update. We've been writing a lot faster than ever with these, and you're right, my brain is starting to feel like mush! But, it's a good kind of mush. Shelly has always motored through faster than me, but my stint when we moved served to ignite a writing flurry.

Krys, another reader actually emailed us the other day about that particular plot hole, and I'll be editing the appropriate chapter and putting in the explanation. Sometimes you get hyperfocused on the main concept and forgot to add supporting details. Thanks to you, and Roxann for the tip about that goof!

And to everybody, THANK YOU! You're making this story just amazing. We write these because we love to write, we love Sheppard and the McShep dynamic, and we'd be doing it anyway, but having a response like this makes it a very special experience.

chaps - thanks for the month catch, my tired brain was thinking of the amount of time left till the bond was over, not when Traitor is full-term.

**Not the Daddy…part 19**

**Pregnancy Clock: 6 months, 2 weeks**

After he'd landed the Jumper, and tried to help unload the supplies they'd returned with – note, tried, because he was firmly told by Ronon, no less, that someone in his condition shouldn't be lifting heavy objects – he headed to his quarters.

He just needed some time to think. He'd been teased, been the butt of jokes, even sympathy, but a victim? Maybe Ronon _had_ been the only one to really feel that side of what had been done to Sheppard, but it had a ring of unsettling truth to it.

Dreya had used him without any thought to his life. The problem with being angry with her, and hating her, was that damn if he didn't feel sorry and understand at least a little of why she did it. Her husband was dead, she was raw from the culling and newly pregnant, and god knows, he now understood more about pregnancy hormones and emotions than any man had a right to.

But that didn't give him back the past four months, or take away all the hell he'd gone through to get to here, and the remaining fourteen weeks. Actually, it was eighteen weeks, if you tagged on that extra month after the baby was born, but somehow he didn't think that was going to have the huge negative impact that the whole pregnancy part had. And really, at that point, he'd be almost over it for good, and John couldn't imagine anything being as horrible that he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes fixed on the light at the end of tunnel.

But what if she breastfed?

John suddenly felt a lot worse. This was depressing.

He tried to settle on the bed in a comfortable position. Sheppard leaned over to take his boots off and fought to bend past the imaginary bump. He wound up trying to stretch and pull laces. Another month, and he wouldn't be able to reach at all if he couldn't get his mind to accept that there wasn't anything there! The pressure resulted in another kick, and John rubbed his stomach thoughtfully.

Things like this were happening more often, and he began to question whether the bond was as one-way as Dreya had said in the beginning. There'd been enough moments like this over the past two weeks that he was going to finally take the plunge and discuss it with Beckett. It might be that his little trip with the gunshot wound may not have registered with Dreya, but it may have with Traitor, except back then, the baby wasn't big enough to be affected all that much. If John hadn't gotten medical care though - sobering thought.

John looked over at the clock. Twenty-thirty hours, another hour and he'd be comatose. The trip to the mainland had taken more time then planned because Sheppard hadn't wanted it to end. He'd purposefully delayed as long as possible.

His door chimed.

Sheppard stared at it suspiciously. It was probably Rodney. Running a little early, but maybe John's little breakdown and depression of late were bringing out McKay's maternal feelings – or paternal. Whatever. Jesus, gender roles were so mixed up right now that he wouldn't be surprised if Elizabeth suddenly sprouted pecs and started swinging from vines.

"I know you're in there Sheppard. I come bearing gifts."

Sigh. Rodney…

"If it's anything except my smurf food, don't bother," grouched Sheppard. Truly, he wasn't even sure the Jell-o was worth the price of admitting McKay.

"Open up, or I'll get Beckett," Rodney threatened irritably.

Everyone plays the Beckett trump card. He sent the 'open' thought to the city, and tried to pretend he hadn't given in, when McKay waltzed through the door.

Rodney put the Jell-o on John's desk, and folded his arms, studying him. "You look like hell."

"Thanks, Rodney, love you to."

"No, seriously, what's it going to take to get you from 'denial and depression' to 'acceptance, and move forward' stage? Because you seem to be stuck somewhere between denial and depression, and nowhere near acceptance."

If Sheppard were a bigger man, he would've been thankful for having a friend to care about him. But Sheppard wasn't a bigger man – he was a slightly pregnant pissed off man.

So, he threw the Jell-o at Rodney. "Get out, and don't come back until you can understand what it's like."

There were a lot of things that Sheppard could be accused of being. Temperamental, demanding, loyal – but patient wasn't one of them, and lately a whole lot of people had forgotten that little aspect of Sheppard.

Rodney looked him right in the face and…sat down.

Huh.

Sighing, Sheppard stepped over to his bathroom, picked up a towel and dampened it, before heading back and tossing it at McKay. "I hate you."

Rodney wiped off the Jell-o and said, "I'm not getting you more tonight, think about that next time you get the urge to toss your favorite food at me."

"It's not my favorite food!" snapped Sheppard, exasperated. "I didn't even like it before – all of this started."

Rodney paused wiping his right cheek. "I'm being serious. You need to accept the situation and get past it, otherwise, it's going to -"

"What, Rodney?" interrupted Sheppard. "It's going to what? Make life miserable? Because if that's what you were going to say, I think you've missed the bulletin over the past four months!"

Rodney finished wiping and finally seemed stymied. "Fine. More miserable, then."

"Tell me how," said John quietly. He looked away from his feet, and locked eyes with McKay. "Because I don't know. I keep almost getting there – sometimes I can forget, until a passing comment, a laugh, a kick – but then it's shoved back in my face, and all I want to do is close my eyes and imagine it's been a bad dream."

McKay got up, and approached Sheppard, who had slumped back on the bed. He sat beside him, and put a hand on John's belly. Traitor liked McKay, again, something that made Sheppard suspect the one-way crap was not the truth. He kept his hand there for a moment, and John didn't shove him off for once.

Finally, he looked at Sheppard. "You feel that?"

"If I don't, I've got more problems than this bond with Dreya," said Sheppard dryly.

"Shut up, and be serious. You started this, I'm going to end it." Rodney took Sheppard's hand with his free one, and pushed it over his other, on John's stomach. "That, Colonel, is a miracle. For whatever reason, you're the one that's experiencing this. It may be inconvenient, and physically exhausting, but it's a miracle. You're the only man who actually knows what it feels like to be pregnant. It's a shame if you're too wrapped up in your own self-pity to see that."

McKay dropped John's hand, and got up. He left the room without saying anything more. And in the silence, Sheppard sat, feeling Traitor kick, as if he'd collaborated with Rodney and told the kid to keep up with the reminders that he wasn't alone in this.

OoO

Sheppard was woken in the night by a painful tightening of his abdominal muscles. It didn't last long before it lightened up, but it was unsettling. It happened a few more times before it seemed to taper off, and he was able to fall asleep again.

When morning arrived, John was tired, but he got dressed and headed to the infirmary. He needed to talk to Beckett, and it was long overdue. The halls were deserted, which was unusual for this time of the day. O630, but maybe he just got lucky and was able to avoid people.

The infirmary doors opened, and he walked in, trying to walk like normal and instead of someone six and a half months pregnant. Problem was, he had almost forgotten what walking normal was like. He didn't see Beckett out in the general area, so headed for the doc's office.

Paydirt. Beckett was sitting at his desk, typing up notes on his computer. Sheppard rapped lightly on the frame.

Carson looked up and his fingers stilled. Almost guiltily, he closed the lid quickly. "Colonel! Good morning, what can I do for you? Your appointment isn't till this afternoon."

Without asking, Sheppard dropped into the chair across from Beckett. Ten to one, he'd been typing a report about him. "Got a minute?"

"Aye, and a bit more. What's troubling you?"

"How sure are you that this bond is only the one-way deal?" he asked carefully.

Carson frowned. "Why, you aren't thinking of doing anything rash -"

Rash? Did Carson think he was having 'let's end it for good' thoughts? Or what? "Doc, I assure you, the only rash thinking going on in here is about the rash I've got on my -," Sheppard broke off and coughed self-consciously, "anyway, what I mean to say, is that I've had some reasons to suspect the baby is connected to me, and not just the pregnancy itself."

That took some guts to admit. And if he could, he would've gotten up and ran. But he came here to figure it out, and one thing that was also true about Sheppard, is that he didn't run like a coward from situations - most of the time.

"And what would those reasons be?" Carson asked sharply, watching him very closely.

You know that old saying 'in for a penny, in for a pound', suddenly John thought a penny was all he could give, and he wanted change.

"Kicks. Certain times I'll feel kicks that almost seem in reaction to things happening with me."

Carson kept staring at him, as if waiting for the big bang.

Finally, John elaborated dramatically, "Me, Doc. Not Dreya, me. If I lean over and squish a belly that isn't even there, I'll get a kick. If, in the rare times that I do now, throw up, I get kicks telling me to knock it off. That's not exactly what I'd call one way."

It must have finally gotten through, because Beckett leaned back in his chair, draped a hand across the armrest, while leaving the other on the desktop, and started to tap them, one by one, starting with his index finger, all the way to his pinky, and then back to his index finger. It was – unsettling.

"Well?" he prompted.

"The midwife I talked to, when we went back after you were getting so sick – she looked up past cases. She found some vague references to bonds with the ATA gene as strong as yours – in their distant past, mind you, it's been fair on a hundred years or more since the last case."

Sheppard felt a pit of anxiety start up in his stomach, and also felt his abdominal muscles tense again, like they'd done the night before. Hurt about as much, also. Kind of like the precursor to a charley horse. Not really painful, but with a subtle message that it's gonna get a lot worse.

"And?"

Carson looked very reluctant to continue, but he did anyway. "There was more to the bond in those cases than in regular bonds. The man and child do share, and there's a connection between the man and the woman in regards to the pregnancy then there is in regular pregnancies. The midwife thought that was how the bond was supposed to work, but the dilution of the gene caused the bond to become almost a fraction of it's original purpose."

Sheppard felt even colder. "Dreya knew, didn't she? She sensed the stronger gene, and that's why she bonded me and not someone else on her world!"

"I think so, son." Beckett admitted. "We didn't want to bring it up unless there were reasons to think that was happening between you and the baby. I asked you the other day if -"

"Who else," asked Sheppard, angry.

"What?"

"You said 'we'. Who else knew this might happen?"

Beckett shifted uncomfortably. "Everyone, Colonel. We believed telling you would only make things worse."

Sheppard jumped out of the chair, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here. They'd all known this might happen. Elizabeth, Rodney, Teyla – even Ronon!

"Sit down, Colonel!" Carson ordered sternly. "You will sit, and you will listen, am I clear?"

If it'd been anyone else, John would've left. But knowing that Beckett had say over everything regarding him at the moment, he sat. "You should've told me."

"And when would that have been, Colonel? When you were going around biting everyone's head off because of it? Or when you were throwing up your insides and miserable? Or better yet, when you were ten steps from losing it over hearing the heartbeat?"

Okay, that pissed him off – and it was because Beckett was right. There'd never been a good time to tell him this, nor was there still a good time. Knowing that his body was interacting with the baby brought new levels of panic to his already horrified mind.

His stomach tightened again, and he rubbed it absently.

"What does this mean, then? That if I die, it'll possibly kill the baby?" Sheppard asked, trying to push out everything else from going round and round.

"It might," he answered honestly. "I know that isn't what you want to hear -"

He wondered if he covered his ears with his hands and taunted 'I'm not listening', would they lock him up and throw away the key?

"I want to go on a mission. Something simple. Cake walk. I need to get my mind off all of this."

Before he'd even finished, Beckett was shaking his head no. "Colonel, you've been pressing everyone hard, and the answer stays the same. If you were honest, you'd know you were in no shape."

Another strong tightening. John rubbed harder.

"I'm in perfect shape. It's not my shape that's the problem. It's Dreya's shape, apparently!" he shouted.

Beckett didn't even blink. "The answer is no."

John closed his eyes and counted to ten – maybe next time he'd try twenty, because he still felt pretty mad. He got up, "I listened to you, and I've told you about the baby, so now we're good, right? Because I've suddenly got the urge to go sit in my quarters and do nothing at all."

This time, Carson had the grace to look a little embarrassed. But then it was gone before John barely had the time to gloat in getting a hit in, and Beckett was lifting the laptop and saying, "I wanted to talk with you anyway, you're glucose tolerance test, the one you missed and didn't get done until a few days ago, came back borderline – I need you to go and get another one."

"Doc, that stuff was disgusting. Borderline is still passing! Heck, for all I know, the nurse drew blood a little early -"

"The nurse didn't draw blood early." Beckett handed him the new slip. "This is for the three-hour test, call the lab and get specific times and instructions, and Colonel, don't be late, I want this done by the end of the week."

Another tightening, and this one lasted longer and hurt just a little bit more. Crap.

"Fine," he swore. He just wanted to get out of here.

John stormed out, and headed for his quarters. Wisely, nobody stopped to chat.

OoO

That afternoon, he was back in the infirmary for his regular check-up. He didn't say much to Beckett. Yes, or no, and a few words when asked about unusual symptoms or anything that would stick out.

Almost on cue, he felt another wretched tightening, but aside from telling Beckett that everything he felt lately could be deemed unusual, it was hard to figure out exactly what he wanted.

Carson's jaw flexed, but he didn't take the bait. John almost felt disappointed. Just as Beckett was finishing up, Rodney walked in. Quickly, Sheppard hopped off the exam table. "We're done, right?" he asked Beckett.

Carson nodded, and gestured for Rodney to get on the gurney.

As Sheppard was shrugging into his jacket he asked, "Hemorrhoids bugging you, Rodney?"

Paybacks are a bitch.

But McKay merely grinned smugly and held up his casted wrist. "Getting this obnoxious thing off today, you? I've got some helpful cream if you're having problems -"

Sheppard glared, and left. Leave it to McKay to keep remaining so damn – unruffled by it all.

He spent the evening playing solitaire, and trying to ignore the increasing intermittent pains in his stomach. He was going to take that three-hour glucose test in the morning, and just the thought of drinking that sugary mixture made his insides flip again. Last time he'd gotten it down once, only to throw it back up, and have to try again. The entire debacle had sucked, and he kept telling himself never again – and yet, here he was.

And McKay wondered why he was stuck halfway between denial and depression.

OoO

He woke up to his door chiming. Rolling over, he groaned. His abdominals were tight in another one of those cramps, and the clock read 0700. He'd overslept. "Come in!" he called, trying to push himself into a sitting position even while the tightening increased and almost took his breath away. For the first time since it'd started, he began to wonder if something wasn't really wrong.

Teyla came in, and she was carrying a breakfast tray. If he hadn't been so tired, he would've laughed. He couldn't eat. "I've got a test, Teyla, no eating until afterwards."

She set it aside. "I see. When you get back from this test, you can eat."

"Did you want something?"

She was watching him and he had the distinct impression he was a piece of favorite candy about to be gobbled up. "Colonel, Ronon talked to me about your conversation the other day."

He did, did he? Great. Big guy was turning – Traitor, and the dang kid kicked him hard right on that thought, and then a strong cramp wrapped around his middle, and almost took his breath away.

Forcing himself to stay still and not give in to wanting to fold over, "I've given it some thought," he said.

"What Dreya did was wrong, but what she also did was give you a chance to be a part of something beautiful. I think it's time you see it for what it is, and stop regretting how events have unfolded."

If he'd had some Jell-o, he would've thrown it at her, too. But the only thing he had handy was his pillow, and he kind of thought it might be a good idea to leave it where it was, because not long after the last cramp released his muscles, another was starting, slowly at first but rising in intensity.

"Teyla, I appreciate what you're trying to do. And, I understand, really – but, you've got to remember, men aren't women. We work, we hunt, we kill, we fight – we do a lot of things, but being pregnant isn't one of them."

"But you are," she stated wisely.

And he was. She had him there. Just then, another cramp ripped through his stomach, and this time he couldn't hold back the moan of pain.

Suddenly, she was up next to him, "John? What's wrong? Should I call Doctor Beckett?"

Mutely, he nodded, because the pain was just growing this time, not having reached a peak like the others. Finally, when he almost thought it'd been too long, it began to ease. Taking a deep breath in, he opened his eyes all the way. "Cramps," he explained, winded from it. "Started last night, or the night before, can't remember. They've been mild, till now."

Teyla's look sharpened tightly. "Describe these – cramps."

"They come and go, and get stronger. Like I said, they weren't much before now."

"Colonel, I think you're experiencing birthing pains," Teyla said carefully. "Are you certain this began last night?"

John repeated it in his head. Birthing pains? Contractions! Teyla thought he was having contractions? Oh, shit, "Dreya!"

She nodded, "I will see to it, you will go with Doctor Beckett."

And as if on cue, the door slid open, love that medical override, and Carson rushed in. He could see a gurney waiting in the hall.

"Colonel?" he asked, breathless from running all the way.

"I can walk!" Sheppard insisted. "It's just – cramps." So help him, he wasn't going to say birthing pains, or contractions, or anything else that may resemble the two.

Apparently, Teyla had no such reservations because she supplied, "I believe he is experiencing birthing pains, Doctor. We must go for Dreya."

"I'm not experiencing birthing pains!" he protested, but the effect was lost, as he felt his muscles begin to slowly tighten, and despite gritting his teeth against the pain, willing it to just stop and not get worse, it did. It continued an inexorable increase until he was grabbing Carson's lab coat.

"Easy, Colonel. Hang in there, almost over," murmured Beckett.

When it was clear to everyone in the room that it was ending, Carson turned to Teyla and said urgently, "Get to Eradia. I doubt they'll have the medications or equipment to handle preterm labor. She needs to be brought back here."

Sheppard was struggling to his feet, only to have Carson push him back down. "I can walk!" he insisted. Being wheeled through these halls was not something he wanted to do again.

"If it's labor, walking will only make it worse," scolded Beckett.

"You said it was one-way!" That wasn't quite true, at least as of yesterday. But remember, denial and depression.

Carson looked more than a little worried. "When we talked in the office, about the baby responding to you, there's more that I didn't get to explain, Colonel. You're right that the baby is connected to you and not just you to Dreya and the baby. In men with the strong ATA gene, the pregnancy is completely shared. Your actions, state of being, everything, will affect the baby."

After dropping that bombshell, which almost had Sheppard frozen in shock, Carson waved for the gurney to be brought in. He helped John on to the bed, and still, Sheppard felt sluggish. His worst fears were being realized. And then another strong contraction began, and he found himself almost begging for it to be over.

By the time they'd gotten to the infirmary, Sheppard had another contraction, and was eager for Beckett to do whatever he had to do to end this. As unprepared as he'd been for the entire situation, this is one predicament he hadn't been planning on facing yet.

They got him settled on a regular bed, and in between increasing contractions, got him into scrubs. Just as Sheppard was catching his breath from the last one, a nurse wheeled in a huge machine with paper and levers and knobs. He narrowed his eyes at it, distrustful.

"What is that?" he asked.

The nurse looked at Beckett and said, "Doctor Beckett will explain it, for now, lift your back off the bed for me, Sir – there you go, just a bit more, arch, like a cat stretching, perfect!"

Sheppard was following her directions but glaring at Beckett.

Carson sighed, and apparently this was going to be one of those explanations he didn't like.

"It's a monitor to record the strength of your contractions and the baby's heartbeat during the labor," he admitted. "Because of the nature of the bond, I believe the contractions will register, and we already know the heartbeat does. It's not uncomfortable, Colonel."

If it hadn't been for the start of another contraction, he would've said something he regretted, but as it were, the increasing vise around his middle took his full attention. Despite himself, he felt his fingers latching on to the sheets and fisting hard into the material to keep from crying out. Sonofabitch, this hurt.

Somewhere during the peak, the nurse had finished with the monitors, and now the steady beat of the baby's heart echoed loudly in the room, and he could see a thin tracing with a large hill on the paper that was continually spitting out the machine.

Beckett nodded, satisfied. "That, Colonel," he pointed at the hill on the paper, "Is the contraction you just got through."

The contraction that kicked his ass, more like it, thought Sheppard.

Rodney ran in the infirmary, one hand trying to yank up a sock, the other pushing through his t-shirt. He was dressed in his pajamas still, and looked flustered.

"Carson? It's too early, isn't it? I mean, he's only six and a half months along – he can't have the baby now?"

"I'm not having a god damn baby!" shouted Sheppard, and he almost sat up, but the stupid white belts across his midriff reminded him to stay put, that and the warning look from the nurse.

Carson shot him a dirty look, and intercepted McKay. "He's gone into pre-term labor – or, Dreya has. Either one, regardless, we've got to get it stopped because it's too early. Teyla has gone to organize a team to return to Eradia and bring Dreya back to Atlantis, but in the mean time, we've got a few tricks up our sleeve to try."

Just then, another contraction started, and Sheppard groaned. He didn't want to do this again. "Doc?" he croaked, as the pain ratcheted up in that massively fast curve in intensity.

Rodney stepped to him, and took his hand, "Squeeze, Sheppard. It helps. I told you we needed to start doing the Lamaze lessons."

John tried to get his hand back from McKay, but Rodney wasn't letting go, and soon he was squeezing for dear life, in tune with the squeezing in his stomach. Finally it was over. He tried to pull his hand back, but Rodney kept holding tight. "Rodney, I'm fine now," he gritted.

McKay realized what he meant, and let go. "Sorry," he muttered. He turned to Beckett, "You said you had some ideas, what?"

Carson took a hypodermic from a nurse who had arrived moments ago. "Terbutaline. It's a muscle relaxant, will cause the uterus to relax so it will stop contracting. Often, a uterus can get, well – irritable, and it starts contracting and can't get stopped on its own. That's where medication helps."

Sheppard, however, wasn't thinking of stopping. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he thought this was perfect timing. Dreya had the baby, and his ordeal was ended that much sooner.

"Forget it, she can have the baby now," he said.

Rodney twisted back to face Sheppard, and his face said it all. "That's selfish and stupid, Colonel, grow up."

"Selfish?" retorted Sheppard. "I wasn't the one that volunteered for this!"

"No, but you're stuck with it anyway, and you need to quit thinking of only Sheppard, and start thinking of -"

He didn't get any further, because Sheppard suddenly paled. Another contraction. They were coming faster; it'd only been maybe seven or eight minutes since the last one.

Beckett looked at the tracer strip and frowned harder. "Colonel, this is serious. Your body is entering active labor. Without Dreya here, I can't gauge the effect on her cervix -"

"It's about damn time someone -," John grunted as the pain took his breath away, but once the contraction began to ease he continued, "admits that her parts are not my parts!"

"Colonel, if you won't let me treat you, the baby might die. A 26-week baby doesn't have a lot of chances, especially here with limited medical care. We didn't pack a neonatal unit." Beckett didn't look worried, or hesitant, or anything else he'd looked the numerous times he'd delivered bad news for Sheppard over the past four months, but he did look deadly serious. He meant every word.

John almost pleaded with Rodney with his eyes. Let this end now. Let all of it be over so he could just get on with his life, but McKay didn't let him.

"Two and a half months, and that baby gets to live. Two and a half months, in the face of all the years you've lived and have to live. That's all Carson wants to give that baby."

Sheppard shot looks back and forth, from Rodney to Beckett, and he wanted to scream no. He wanted to tell them that he couldn't face another three and half months of this.

But then Traitor kicked.

And John wanted to weep.

"Do it," he said, before he could change his mind.

There were exhaled breaths throughout the infirmary, as not only Rodney and Carson had been hanging on his decision, but the nurses as well. Beckett quickly injected the medication into Sheppard's IV port.

"This'll make you're heart beat fast, and it'll feel a bit odd, but it won't hurt you."

True to Beckett's promise, it did. And then he forgot about his racing heart as another crushing contraction took everything away but the grip Rodney had on his hand, again.

McKay held on tight, and didn't complain even when John was sure he'd broken bones. After it was easing, Rodney begged Carson, "Can't you give him something for the pain?"

"Aye, but first we need to make sure this is working, Rodney. Pain medication can stunt labor, but not stop it. We want to make sure the Terbutaline causes the contractions to stop."

The next two hours were probably the longest he'd ever had, but by the end, his contractions had almost stopped. The medicine had worked, and John almost wished he could go back and not take the stuff. He could've ended it.

Rodney must have sensed his thoughts. He was sitting now, beside John still, but he had a hand draped over the rail of his bed, and had his head resting on the other hand also on the rail.

Sleepily, he stared at John. "You did the right thing. The Sheppard I know would never have put an innocent life at risk for his own."

"I know," admitted Sheppard. "But the Sheppard you know was never forced into being pregnant, either."

McKay's lips twitched, and he took the rag from the bedside table, and swiped it gently across John's forehead. "If it helps any, you're the best looking pregnant guy I've ever known. You've still managed to maintain your girly figure."

John snorted. "I don't have a girly figure."

"Please. You're skinnier than Elizabeth."

"I'm gonna tell her you said that," Sheppard threatened.

The look of fear that came over McKay's face almost made it worthwhile. "I let you almost break my hand! Carson's going to send me to x-ray. And you'd tattle on me? That is so juvenile -"

The monitors were still strapped to his stomach, and the heartbeat sounded strong and reassuringly in the room. Both men fell silent.

Sheppard was tired. More tired than he could remember being in his entire life. He knew Dreya was en route. Knew the labor was stopped for now. Knew that he'd accepted the situation because he'd had to.

And now, all he wanted to do was sleep. The baby kicked again, hard. Sighing softly, John whispered "Traitor."

TBC…


	20. Chapter 20

AN: I know (sorry Emrys LOL!) that you all were waiting for updates and wondering where we went, but Halloween kept us both busy, Shelly and I both had to do that mom thing with the kids. Anyway, there've been some very deep comments, and I've been emailing with Shelly to discuss them. Here's our take on this. Sheppard's reactions are very much anger over his body being derailed without his choice, and not being able to do his job. He doesn't feel raped so much as used. As far as the teasing and lack of sympathy - it is there, more so in the beginning but also in what they are doing for him. The joking isn't all to be uncaring, it's also a way of trying to get him to lighten up and come out of his funk, and even make him laugh at his circumstances. The guy's depressed and Shep needs to see the lighter side of things, but also, not everyone is good with their feelings. McKay, we all know, is not. He's a deep feeler, but a blunderer when it comes to social skills. His idea of supporting Sheppard is being there through these pregnancy things. And Teyla - look back to Letters From the Pegasus Galaxy, and you'll see that she doesn't look at the bigger picture all the time. She's got blind spots. Anyway, hope this answers some of the issues brought up, and feel free to keep the discussion on these points going! And one last note on the 'slashy' moments, hmmmm - how about 'don't ask, don't tell'.

(ducking from the rotten fruit now)

**NOT THE DADDY...part 20**

**Pregnancy clock: 6 months, 3 weeks**

When John woke up he was belt free and, after a quick check at his hand, IV free. He felt a sense of relief that was quickly wiped out by a flare of pure panic. One hand pressed to his abdomen, John called out, "Beckett!"

Carson was there in the blink of an eye, pressing John back into the pillows. "Easy, Colonel...easy. What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

"No...no…I'm fine!" John realized he was fine but the panic remained. "The baby...the baby is okay, right?"

"Aye...the baby is doing just fine now." Carson patted John's shoulder, offering a warm smile. "You did the right thing and everything is fine."

Relief washed over John in waves, leaving him feeling a little lightheaded. Then he realized he had to pee and he pushed back the covers.

Carson stopped him. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, using his stern doctor's voice.

"Bathroom run, Doc," John replied, pushing Beckett's hand away. John stood up, wobbled a bit, got his balance and turned towards the bathroom. "Oh...I can leave now, right?" he asked, before heading off.

"Not yet," Carson replied. "You'll be my guest for a few more days. I need to keep an eye on you and the wee one."

John opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. He had made the choice to help the baby, he wasn't going to screw things up now. At least not any more than it already felt like he had. So he simply nodded then made his way to the back. "I'm going to shower," he called over his shoulder, knowing that a nurse would drop off some clean scrubs for him. Then he jumped when a hand settled on his arm. It was Beckett.

Smiling at John's surprise, Carson nudged him along. "I'm just making sure you're steady on your feet. You've been through a lot in the past few days, Colonel."

"Yeah...guess so," John mumbled. He wasn't quite ready to deal with the full implications of what he had done and what it meant in the long run. John still wasn't sure how he felt about what had happened. It had happened so damn fast and, like everything else since he had become bonded with Dreya, it had happened without him being in control. That's what he hated most of all about his condition. The lack of his control over anything that was happening and the fact that his body felt foreign to him. Heaving a sigh, John pushed away those thoughts. He had reached the bathroom and he tugged free of Beckett's grip. "I can handle it from here," he assured the Scot.

"I'll get some scrubs," Carson said. "Call me when you're ready to come back to bed. We'll get you settled in then we'll do a quick check up and then get you something to eat."

John rubbed his flat belly, still not used to it being so flat when it was insisting to him that a huge belly was in the way. "Yeah...I could eat," he allowed.

Carson nodded. "You need to eat. Once this is over we're going to do something about seriously fattening you up." A smile and a pat on John's shoulder and Carson headed off, ignoring the scowl aimed at him.

Deciding that peeing was more important than arguing the merits of his weight with Beckett, John let the doc go and moved into the bathroom to take care of business. That done, he stripped off his scrubs and got into the shower. Like always, John didn't linger. He didn't want to feel changes in his body that weren't really there. It messed with him to see the same body as always but have his mind insisting that it was different. So he washed up, rinsed off, got dried and dressed. He realized he hadn't even heard anyone slip in with the clean scrubs. Once dressed John took a moment to towel dry his hair and run his fingers through it. When he did that he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.

He looked different. John blinked hard then stared again. He looked thinner and there was something haunted in his eyes yet, at the same time he looked...glowing. John hated it when Rodney used that word around him but he couldn't think of any other word to describe himself at the moment. John grimaced and turned away. He really did not want to do this anymore. As if reading his mind, Traitor gave John a hearty kick for his thoughts. John reacted on instinct, hand coming up to rub his belly. "Sorry, kiddo..." he whispered. "Nothing personal. I'm just all kinds of fucked up at the moment."

John might have allowed himself an impromptu pity party, only a knock on the door jolted him out of it.

"Colonel," Called a female voice, no doubt a nurse. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine!" John shot back, his tone a bit sharp. He was tired of being babied all the time. "I'll be out in a minute!" He listened for her footsteps to retreat and only then did he make a move towards the door. Still feeling a bit sorry for himself, John headed back to his bed only to find he had a visitor. Dreya.

She had been pacing a bit but seemed to sense him. She turned as he approached and smiled. "Colonel Sheppard, how are you feeling?"

He stared at her instead of replying, eyes locked on her swollen belly. It was, scarily, familiar. It was everything he expected to see whenever he looked at himself. Only then realizing she was waiting for a reply, he whispered, "Been better. You?" He couldn't quite clear the attitude from his voice.

"I am well, thank you," Dreya replied, sincerely.

"Good." John was still too sharp but he meant it. He had more to say but Beckett bustled over to him, pushing him towards the bed.

Drawing the covers over John, Carson stated, "A quick check then you can visit with Dreya." He did his readings, quickly and efficiently, asked a few questions then pronounced John as, "Doing well. You can visit for a bit," he added, eyeing John sternly. "Then I want you to rest."

John nodded, eyes still locked on Dreya. "Sure, whatever." Then Beckett was gone and John blurted out," Shouldn't you be in bed?" By rights what had happened had, actually, happened to her.

"Dr. Beckett said I am fine and just to be careful," Dreya replied.

"Are you going back to Eradia?" John almost crossed his fingers as he waited for her response. Only he wasn't sure what he wanted her to say.

Dreya shook her head. "Everyone has convinced me that it is best that I stay here until the baby is born. Had you not been so strongly bonded to me, the baby would have been born prematurely and it is doubtful she would have lived." Moving closer to the bed, Dreya reached for John's hand, squeezing hard. "Thank you...thank you for saving my baby."

John closed his eyes, anger and guilt suddenly at war inside him. He tugged his hand free and couldn't quite look at Dreya as he hissed out, "Don't thank me! Thank Rodney and the Doc. I wanted you to have it now so this would be over with!" John shook with tension as he spoke, spitting out all his anger and directing it at Dreya with laser precision. He wanted to hurt her even as he regretted doing so.

There was a long moment of silence and Dreya's eyes glistened with unshed tears. She simply stared at John for a time, then she folded her arms over her belly and asked, "What made you change your mind?"

Now there was the question John had been avoiding, but he felt compelled to answer it...honestly. "A kick in the pants reminder that the baby didn't ask for this anymore than I did." John didn't have to look at Dreya to feel her flinch. He scrubbed a hand over his face, wishing he could wipe away everything he was feeling. He knew most of it wasn't hormonal at the moment, it was his own doubts and fears and insecurities. His own guilt and regrets. After a time, he looked at Dreya and continued. "I hate this...you have no idea how much." As he spoke, John's hand dropped to his own belly and he rubbed it, hoping to settle Traitor down a bit. The baby seemed to sense John's mood and was reacting accordingly. "I hate it but I won't punish the baby because of it," he finished.

"Thank you." Dreya's words were whispered, but they echoed loudly between them.

"I'm tired," John countered, still feeling the sharp edge of his anger. He curled up on his side as best he could, back to Dreya, and closed his eyes. He heard her walk away and only then did John let himself drift off to sleep.

He wished he could sleep the last weeks of this away. Instead he did as he was told, eating what he could, visiting with Elizabeth and Rodney and the others. John took note of the fact that Dreya did not return to see him. He didn't blame her. Then, finally, Beckett released him to his room. He was warned, finger-shaking in his face and all, to report any symptoms, no matter how minor. John agreed. He then took his first steps to freedom only to do an about face and follow Beckett into his office. Once there John blurted out a question. "Um...when should I start doing kick counts?" He saw the surprise on Beckett's face and it was almost comical.

Carson opened his mouth to reply only to be interrupted by his radio. "Beckett here," he responded.

They both listened as he was called to an emergency in the botany lab. "Go," John said. His question could wait. Or he could dig out the pregnancy book again. Not that he didn't have it pretty much memorized by now.

"We'll talk later," Carson promised, giving John a pat on the shoulder before heading out.

John watched him go, then found himself sinking down into a nearby chair when it suddenly hit him what had just happened. What his asking that simple question really meant. John blinked hard and pressed one hand over his stomach as he let acceptance wash over him. Because that was what he was finally doing. Accepting that which he could not change. And a part of him wondered if, given the chance, he even would.

After a time, John got up and headed for his room. He felt exhausted, so he stretched out on his bed, both hands on his belly, wanting to feel Traitor move. And when the baby did just that, John felt a wet burn in his eyes. He hated this...hated feeling so damn confused and conflicted. He hated being so fucked up but...he realized he no longer had any real regrets about making the choice to save Traitor.

Feeling a warm contentment stealing over him, John closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep.

OoO

A knock on the door brought John awake. He sat up, scrubbing at his eyes, calling out for the person to enter. He figured it was Rodney. To John's surprise it was Dreya, with food. John slid out of bed and took the tray from her, setting it on his desk. He realized he had to pee and excused himself to take care of that and splash water on his face. Then he returned to find Dreya straightening his bed, like Teyla had done before. "Sorry about the mess," John said, feeling a bit embarrassed. "And you really don't have to do that."

"I have little else to do to occupy my time," Dreya countered, as gentle smile on her face.

"I guess it must be even more boring for you than for me," John allowed. "Um...did you bring enough food for two? Or should I say three?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice that he felt comfortable with.

Dreya nodded. "I did. I was hoping you would not mind if I joined you."

John held out the chair for her. "I don't mind."

"Colonel?" Dreya began, as she sat down, mindful of her bulk. "May I say something to you?"

"Sure," John replied, sitting down himself and realizing he was being just as mindful of the stomach that wasn't really there.

Dreya cleared her throat then said, "I am very sorry for all of this. For what I have done to you. I only now have begun to understand what it has meant for you. Watching you go through the pain earlier...and talking to others here. I know that I have forced you away from your duties. For all of that...I am sorry."

John stared at her, feeling touched by the apology, yet a bit angry too. Angry at himself for being the prompt for it. "It's okay," he replied, reaching for her hand. And John realized he meant it. That he was coming to terms with this. "There's nothing anyone can do to change it now so...we'll just see it through. Okay?" At her nod he felt himself relax and he pulled back only to stifle a gasp as his back twinged in protest.

"Let me help you with that," Dreya offered, rising with surprising grace and moving behind John to rub at his lower back.

"You don't have to do this," John said, but it was a mild protest. Her fingers knew right where to dig in and rub hard. Which made sense given that it was actually her pain. Even if he did feel it more.

Dreya continued kneading. "By helping you...I am helping myself," she reminded him. "And I want to help you." Utmost sincerity in her words.

John didn't miss it. He said nothing more, simply letting her get the kinks out. Then they settled in to eat and chat and such became the pattern of the next few days.

OoO

In spite of himself, in spite of wanting to feel detached and his desire to hold on to his anger, John found himself bonding with Dreya. To the point where they even discussed naming the baby. Although she was the one to bring it up during lunch one day.

"It's your baby," John stated firmly. "You name it."

"I think that you have more than earned the right to help me choose," Dreya countered, reaching out to touch his arm. "I wish for your input, Colonel."

John winced. "Colonel?" he echoed. "I thought I had cured you of calling me that. I mean, since we're sharing this...pregnancy thing...the least you can do is use my name."

Dreya nodded then smiled warmly. "Of course. John," she amended. "Now...have you thought of any names?"

"Not really." John picked at his sandwich, not feeling all that hungry. As much as he enjoyed Dreya's company, he was bored. It didn't' help that Rodney was caught up in maintenance stuff with Radek, because they were having power surge problems. So Rodney wasn't around as much of late to keep John amused. Teyla was gone on a mission with Ronon, having joined up with Lorne's team for the time being. Weir was still teaching John how to read Ancient, but she had too many other duties as leader of Atlantis to spend any time in keeping him amused otherwise. Which left check-ups with Beckett and hanging out with Dreya. And as much as John found himself liking her, being with her so much was a somewhat painful reminder of his condition. A reminder that he could no longer do his job. Which tended to cycle him back into being irritated and moody, and John was tired of feeling that way.

"Are there any names that you like?" Dreya prompted.

And John realized she was staring at him, waiting for him to respond. He must have zoned out for a moment. "Um...names," he repeated. "Well...I've always liked my cousin's name."

Dreya looked intrigued. "What is it?"

"Lily." John made a face as he spoke. "It's a flower where I come from. Pretty."

"Lily..." Dreya echoed. "I like how it sounds."

John shrugged, feeling a bit embarrassed and not sure why. "McKay wants you to name the baby Rodney, even though Beckett is positive it's a girl," he declared, wanting to lighten his own mood.

Dreya laughed, a musical sound that filled the room. "He is a nice man and a good friend to you, I think."

"I suppose he is," John allowed. "So...um...did you have a name picked out?"

"No...not yet," Dreya replied. "I wanted you to help me choose, John. I consider her to be our child."

John was not ready to hear that. The implications of what Dreya was saying was something too intensive, too invasive in some ways. Needing to find a distraction from this particular conversation, John was about to suggest they take a walk when he heard claxons sounding. Grabbing his ear piece, John radioed Weir. "What's going on?" he asked.

She sounded worried when she replied. "Lorne returned without Ronon and Teyla. He has...refugees. He said the team was attacked and he barely made it back."

"Ronon and Teyla?" John asked, even as he was already heading for the door.

"I don't know yet," Elizabeth replied.

John was about to tell her he was on his way when he heard the sound of gunfire. Instinct told him to remain silent and to just listen. He heard Elizabeth asking Lorne what he was doing. He heard someone yelling, then McKay's voice in the background. The words _tie them up_ and _hostage_ floated around, along with _lock down the gate_. Deja Vu washed over John, as he remembered how the Genii had once tried to take over Atlantis.

Turning to Dreya, John told her, "I need to hide you in a safe place and I want you to stay put." As he spoke, John was rummaging in his closet. He had a spare ear piece which he put on Dreya with an explanation of how to use it. "I'm on this channel, it's private. But only use it if you're in trouble." That said, John pulled on his vest, grimacing when he realized he didn't have to try and fit it over a swollen belly. He then pulled out extra clips, strapped on his thigh holster and checked his Beretta, then he grabbed his P90 and was ready to move. But even as he reached his door, it remained closed. John realized someone must have locked down the city, someone being Rodney. But Atlantis liked John and he knew how to override the systems, thanks to Zelenka.

Checking the hallway, John made sure it was clear then he headed out. He had a life signs detector in his vest and he pulled it out as he grabbed Dreya's hand. John knew of a safe place on an undersea level. He would take Dreya there then he would do what he could to take back his city and save his people.

**THE END...of part 20**


	21. Chapter 21

AN: Not much to say here except you guys kill me with the comments (in a good way)! And the scroll bar, -------> check . it. out. Hehehehe.

**Not the Daddy…part 21**

**Pregnancy Clock: 7 months**

Sheppard ducked into a transportation device, and with life signs detector out, selected the level for the infirmary. He'd gotten Dreya situated in a room down deep where the infiltrators were not likely to go, at least anytime soon. He thought back to the moment when he'd left her.

"Is it safe?" she'd asked. Her hands had gone nervously to her stomach, _their_ stomach.

Because he felt its size even as his mind tried to understand why his hand never felt skin protruding from his belly. It was – disconcerting.

"You'll be safe." There was so much he needed to say. "Dreya - " If something happened to him, she'd be left without recourse. He couldn't even tell her to find someone in the city, because the situation was unknown.

She was waiting for him to finish, and though he could tell she was afraid, she was also standing tall, and not giving in to the fear.

"I'll be back," he finally said with a forced smile.

She'd nodded, knowing that there was a chance he wouldn't, but she didn't say it. Instead, she'd reached for his arm, and touched, the small contact conveying her thoughts.

He'd nodded, and left.

Sheppard's first stop was the infirmary. He'd overheard some disturbing references on the radio, before contact had been cut-off. It almost sounded like Lorne was involved in the take-over, and since that didn't make any sense at all, he had to believe that Lorne was under an alien influence.

Which meant, he needed Beckett.

As Sheppard left the transporter room, he read the LSD to search for potential hostiles ahead. It came up empty, except for the infirmary, and that was bad, because the infirmary was lit up like a Christmas tree. Damn.

Maybe Beckett had rounded up loose personnel and smuggled them in, before McKay had locked down the city? The good news, was by McKay doing that one action, he'd made it possible for Sheppard to come out ahead in this. The infiltrators would be unable to maneuver freely.

John approached the double doors, and tried to stare through the frosted glass, but he couldn't even make out blurry shapes. Which meant, the people inside were staying out of sight.

Making a decision, Sheppard ordered the city to release the door with a quick thought. As the doors opened, he hefted his P90, and waited to the side. He called out, deciding not to use a flash bang, because he had a hunch the life signs in there were not hostiles.

"Doc? You in there?"

Time ticked away.

"Colonel!" Beckett shouted back. "What the bloody hell is going on?"

Now to test for anything off – "Are you alone?"

There was a metallic clink, and a curse before Beckett replied loudly. "Of course I'm not alone, I've got half of the bloody city in here! Alarms started wailing, and people came here, and then the bloody doors locked us in. I can't get anyone on the radio -"

Sheppard grimaced over the number of times Carson used bloody. The Scot was a little bit upset.

But it'd still be easy for this to be a set-up, so he gave a final test. "Doc, riddle me this, why am I stuck in the city and off missions?"

"Because you're bloody pregnant, Lad, now would someone tell me what the -"

Yep, that was Carson all right. Sheppard spun off the wall, and into the infirmary, still weapon ready, but more relaxed.

Beckett was standing in front of a row of white-coated scientists, and off to the side were nurses trying to mollify the few patients that had been in the infirmary. Before Sheppard explained, he verified that every life sign matched up to a body, and that there were no extras. Everything came up daisies.

"So, Doc, we've got a problem," he said, finally getting back to Carson. "And I'm not pregnant."

Beckett was relieved enough to see him that he didn't insist on Sheppard's pregnant or not pregnant status. "Colonel, please don't tell me this is another take-over attempt? Because the last one was bad enough."

Carson unconsciously rubbed his face where Sora had decked him good.

"I wish I could, Doc, but it looks like it is."

Sheppard quickly brought the personnel in the room up to date with what he'd overheard. "So, hate to put you in the thick of it, but I'm gonna need your medical expertise."

One of the scientists stepped forward. "Have you been able to re-establish any kind of radio contact with the gate room?"

"It's been dead since McKay locked down the city." Sheppard could only hope that McKay wasn't dead as well. He'd be lying if he said the thought hadn't more than crossed his mind.

"I could try to rig an eavesdropping channel," the scientist offered. "If you can get me down to the labs."

"Done," said Sheppard. "Beckett, get enough sedatives to tranq the city."

They were going to re-take Atlantis, and if their own people were being influenced, they'd need a way to get them subdued without harm. That could be tricky, but he'd created an 'unofficial' armory on another remote spot in Atlantis, and he was the only one who knew about it. He'd stashed wraith stunners, tranquilizer guns, some P90's, grenades and flash bangs along with some armor, radios and plenty of ammunition.

He'd done it the week following the Genii attack.

Carson paused, about to say something, and Sheppard had a feeling it was something along the lines of 'you shouldn't be doing this', but then the seriousness of the situation reminded Beckett that there wasn't anyone else who could do it. Beckett headed for his medicine cabinet, and unlocked the door, rifled through some boxes before drawing a box smaller than John's Snoopy lunchbox had been when he was a kid and said, "This ought to do it."

"Let's go," he ordered, waving at the scientist to follow, the one that said he could rig some communications. "The rest of you stay put. If anyone tries to get in, you get ready to fight. If they are influencing our personnel, letting them get close to you could mean being affected so at all costs, keep a distance."

John wished he had time to do more, but if he failed, it wouldn't matter anyway. He ordered the doors to release again, watching the LSD for signs of anyone moving about, and the good news was that the LSD continued to remain blank except for their own signatures.

Sheppard put his back against the corridor wall, and waved for Beckett and the other guy to clear the door, before he sealed it behind them. As they headed for the transporter, John tried to imagine positive outcomes, because all he had was a slightly pregnant soldier – he thought that with a wince – and a medical doctor, along with a scientist. Yeah, those were the odds that curled your hair in places unseen.

"Colonel, how're holding up?" asked Beckett quietly.

"I'm fine, Doc," assured Sheppard. He didn't think this was the time to admit he was beginning to feel the tightening that he knew had preceded his little bout of preterm labor.

He'd been more than surprised to find that the symptoms had hit him hard, but by the time the medicines had worked in him, Dreya had only felt some mild contractions, and hardly knew anything was up. Because of it, Teyla and Ronon had a difficult time convincing her to return, but once she'd arrived and saw how serious events had become with him, she'd understood. Sheppard's body was the harbinger of complications. They manifested earlier and if treatment worked in him, it worked for her.

"Colonel?" asked Carson, noticing his distraction.

Sheppard shook off the worrisome thoughts. "It's nothing," he said. And if he didn't pull this off, it'd be nothing for a fact, because either they'd be killed, sent through the gate, or subdued like it appeared Lorne was.

It didn't take long to get to the lab the scientist asked for, and it took even less time to get in and assure the scientists that had been locked behind when the city had sealed everyone in, that the situation was being worked on.

Together, the one from the infirmary, and Sheppard wished he'd bothered to ask for a name, got together with the three that had been in the room, and started work on cracking the communications.

While they did that, Sheppard tried unsuccessfully to find a chair and sit. His groin was aching like he'd been kicked there, and since he knew he hadn't, he had to figure it was linked to Dreya. It was uncomfortable, and had him again cursing the whole fucked up situation. If any time he needed to be a hundred percent, it was now, and here he was, slinking into a chair trying to ease his prostate. God.

And here came Beckett – so much for stealth.

"Colonel?" he asked. "This is a bit more activity then I okayed in your discharge papers, how's the baby?"

The baby was fine. His groin – that was another matter. "Kicking up a storm," answered Sheppard wryly, because he was. Traitor had a habit of bad timing. Some of the kicks were hard enough to make him flinch.

"Good, and any contractions?" persisted Beckett.

Sheppard squirmed, because not only was Carson more observant than John wanted, or needed right now, but a couple of the scientists had turned their attention his way.

"Doc," hissed John, reaching for his shoulder and pulling Beckett close to him so they could talk without being overheard, "I appreciate the sentiment, but this isn't a good time."

"Colonel, there isn't any good time, but we can wait till you collapse on the floor if you want -"

How Beckett managed to be solicitous and confrontational all in one sentence was beyond Sheppard, but he did. Still – the scientists were listening to every word, and he couldn't allow them to see his weaknesses, and doubt his ability to get them out of this.

"I'm fine, and when this is all over, you can haul me down to the infirmary, and verify it, but for now I've got a city depending on me, and I don't need there to be any doubt in other people's eyes about my ability to carry out my job, clear?"

Beckett frowned, knowing there was more going on then John was admitting, but he nodded abruptly. "Crystal."

"Good, now, while they work on the communications, you and I have got a little side trip to take."

And as Sheppard clambered to his feet, he tried to hide the wince as the ache resettled in the exact same spot. Crap.

"Where are we going?" asked Beckett, suddenly alarmed for a whole new reason. "I'm a doctor, Colonel, not a soldier, and I don't think I'm much help wielding a weapon or watching your back – unless it's in a hospital gown."

"You watch my back when I'm in a hospital gown?" Sheppard asked, giving him a sideways look. He knew what Beckett meant, but he couldn't let the opportunity go to score a bit of fun at Carson's expense.

Cheekily, Carson didn't even pause, "Aye, and since I've seen a few, it's safe to say you could stand to gain a few pounds."

"Very funny, Doc."

But what wasn't funny was Beckett's expertise in handling weapons, yet that's what he had, and Sheppard would find a way to make the best of it. "You'll do. Good thing about these weapons are the wide dispersal," he said, hefting a stunner into Beckett's hand. "You'll do the damage you need if you can point and shoot. It's the weapon for the incompetent."

"I resent that," grouched Beckett. "Untrained does not equal incompetent."

"Does in my book," Sheppard muttered. Louder he said, "I'll handle the tranquilizer gun, but I'll need you to dose the darts with an amount that will keep them down long enough for us to secure any areas that have been overtaken. Can you do that?"

"I don't know, might be my incompetence -"

"Doc -"

Beckett sighed. "Yes, I can bloody well handle dosing darts, Colonel."

Having retrieved the weapons, it was time to head back and see if they'd patched into the comms. Beckett had four more stunners in his hands, and Sheppard had three tranq pistols, and one rifle, along with the P90 on his vest, and his 9 mil tucked in his holster.

The tightening in his abdominals grew to a crescendo that was only slightly low enough to avoid him wincing, and he tapped his ear piece. "Dreya, you okay?"

Her timid voice answered with forced courage, "I'm fine, John. Nobody's come down here. Will it be much longer?"

Sheppard didn't think so. Either way, the proverbial shit was going to hit the fan, and all he had (now) were four scientists, a doctor and one _slightly_ pregnant soldier. If he were a gambling man, he'd give them odds of zero to none. Which meant, it didn't look good. But he didn't say any of that to Dreya, instead he offered her all he could, "Won't be long now, just stay where I put you. Sheppard out." He closed off the channel, and they were back at the lab.

He directed Atlantis to open, and found the scientists arguing heatedly over a blackened console, and a cracked crystal in the lone woman's hand. Miko, Sheppard remembered. He knew McKay complained that she seemed to worship the ground he walked on – but then again, Rodney tended to be self-centered, narcissistic –

"I might not be up to date with my Ancient tech, but that's not supposed to be cracked, and black - not a good color," said Sheppard, pointing at the crystal.

Miko shrugged. "Is no good. Broken. Ruined. We are, as Rodney says, screwed."

If she was quoting McKay, maybe she did have it bad for him.

"So, no eavesdropping on the bad guys?" He tried for light, but just then the ache in his groin, and a contraction double teamed, and almost drove him to his knees, so it came out more strangled and tight then he intended.

Lucky for him, Beckett had gone to one of the scientists who was cradling a burned hand and didn't see it.

The one scientist that he'd picked up in the infirmary was standing next to Miko, and looking extremely agitated, which for scientists wasn't saying much, because to Sheppard it seemed like that was their perpetual state, but anyway –

He started handing stunners to scientists, and to say the weapons were taken gingerly from him was like saying the sun was hot.

"Okay, listen up. This is a wraith stunner. I have reason to believe that our own people have been compromised, so, if you see it moving, shoot it. We're going to make our way to the gate room. When we get there, we're going disarm any hostiles, and regain control of the city."

Sheppard finished talking and realized they were all staring at him with varying degrees of 'you've got to be kidding me'. He regarded them for a moment and tried again, "Remember that guy Rambo? You get to play Rambo. Just – don't paint your faces red, and tie bloody bandannas on your head or anywhere else, got it?"

A couple of faces switched up to a little excitement, while Miko remained uncertain and the other guy looked like he wished he could pass out and get it over with. The one guy he couldn't do much for, but Miko –

"We're gonna rescue Doctor McKay," he added. And others…

Now the light went on for Miko.

She got her stunner in a two handed hold that would've done Conan proud and bullied to the front. "What we wait for?"

Thatta girl, thought Sheppard. And then his belly whinged at him – loudly. That one was a bit intense. He knew he was having labor contractions, and he knew it was still too early.

"Sorry, Traitor, daddy's got to take care of the already living before I can worry about the ones not here yet," he whispered.

He'd turned towards the door, and didn't figure anyone had heard him, and oddly enough, talking to Traitor made him feel better. He intentionally ignored the slip in calling himself 'daddy'. They left the lab, Beckett had moved up towards him, and John had the LSD out and scanning. So far, so good. When he got a chance, he'd have to tell McKay good job on locking the city down. This would've been a lot harder had everyone been loose in the city, not knowing who was friend or foe.

It didn't take them long to get to one of the upper level doors leading into the gateroom. Sheppard paused, and swept each scientist and Beckett with an assessing glance. They didn't look ready, nor very confidant, but this was it. They were what he had, and they'd have to do.

"I'm not one for speeches," he admitted. "But you all know what we've got to do, and you all know what's depending on it. Remember, if it moves, shoot it. If it doesn't move, shoot it anyway. Are we good?"

Beckett repeated, "If it moves shoot it, if it doesn't move, shoot it anyway – aye, I can do that."

The other four didn't look so convinced, but none of them had fallen out yet.

"On three – one, two, three -"

Sheppard ordered Atlantis to open the door, and she did. They rushed into the room, and spread out in the directions Sheppard pointed. The first encounter was one of theirs. Miko took the guy out before he had a chance to blink in surprise at their arrival.

He would've said good job, but just then he was trying hard to fight through another contraction.

That one stopped him, and Beckett didn't miss it this time.

"The baby?" he asked softly, while the others were waiting for Sheppard to straighten.

"I'm okay," insisted Sheppard. The contraction over, he straightened and began to walk forward, but the hand on his arm held him back. He looked from the hand to the man.

"Don't, Colonel. Don't lie to me."

John knew Beckett deserved better, but he didn't know what good knowing would do right now other than make him worry, and worrying took attention off of where it needed to be, and that was the targets in the room.

"I don't mean to," he said. "But we've got other problems."

Beckett wanted to argue, but John saw that the doctor at least accepted the truth for what it was. Irrefutable. "When this is over -"

"Doc, if we're still around when this is over, you won't hear an argument from me."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Beckett asked worriedly.

"No, not really," he answered honestly. He stepped past the doc, and waved at the scientists to split into two groups. Two to the right side of the gateroom, and two to the other. Beckett took the right group, John took the left.

As Sheppard led them around the corner, and spun into the room, the tranq gun came up, and he aimed at the first person he saw, which happened to be Rodney McKay, who was holding a pistol on not only five individuals garbed in uniforms he didn't recognize, but also Elizabeth, Lorne and Markham along with some of the gate techs that had been on duty.

"McKay," he said evenly.

"Thank god, I was beginning to think I'd be standing here till I grew older than the wraith would even eat."

Sheppard narrowed his eyes. The sarcasm fit McKay, but that didn't explain why he had everyone at the wrong end of a gun. "What's going on, Rodney?"

"Super soldier here," he waved the gun in Lorne's direction, "came through the gate escorting these – individuals – and then started doing an imitation of a psychotic turn coat and shooting up the gateroom, telling us to surrender, grabbing hostages -"

So, he'd heard that part right then. Lorne and Markham were compromised. Miko and the other scientist stood by his side, stunners leveled at the group. But that still didn't explain how McKay, who while intelligent, but with the defensive skills of a potato bug, managed to disarm everyone and gain control.

Making his mind up, Sheppard raised the gun and said, "Sorry, Rodney," and fired.

McKay barely had time to register shock on his face, and then the other group with Beckett converged behind the intruders and their own personnel, and the mass firing began.

In seconds it was over, and the unconscious people littered the floor. Elizabeth, Rodney, Lorne, Markham, three gate techs, and the five individuals he knew had come through the gate, apparently controlling Lorne and Markham. Where that left Teyla and Ronon, he didn't want to think about.

Another strong contraction began to twist his gut, and the wrenching pain increased harder, till he thought he would cry out from it, before finally easing. Taking a few hard breaths, he tapped the ear piece, watching as Beckett moved to check Elizabeth.

"Dreya, you all right?"

She answered immediately. "I'm fine, is it okay now?"

"No contractions?" he asked. If she hadn't started with symptoms yet, there was probably still time.

"None – John, are you having some again?" She sounded nervous.

Sheppard supposed he could understand. Her baby was at risk, and the longer it took for him to get treatment, and get this stopped, the more likely she would begin full blow labor and it'd be too late.

"A little, but it's okay. Just – hold tight, someone will be down to get you soon."

By the time he'd shut the channel, he was kneeling by McKay, and examining him. If the agent were a narcotic, or some kind of chemical influence, there wouldn't be any outward evidence. But, as he looked at Rodney, his eyes caught a metallic disc on the side of McKay's neck, just above the collar.

"Doc, look at this!" he called.

Beckett jogged over, and knelt down beside Sheppard. He nodded at the discovery. "I found one on Elizabeth also." He prodded it with a gloved hand, and ran a finger over the surface. "Looks almost like a device similar to what the Tok'ra use, these memory devices, but this obviously does more than make pretty pictures from past events."

"The Gou'ald?" John didn't know much about them, but he did know they weren't supposed to be in the Pegasus galaxy.

"The Gou'ald were parasites, Colonel, they leeched technology from others in the galaxy, the Ancients mostly. It seems to follow that the memory devices weren't their invention. If it were the Ancients, that begs the question, where did these blokes get a hold of them?" Carson gestured at the now stunned intruders. "Let's hope popping these off our people solves the problem."

Sheppard headed to the consoles, and unlocked the city. The infiltrators hadn't gotten out of the gateroom, and apparently hadn't the time to do more than capture the expedition members and stick the devices on them. If he'd been much slower to respond, he knew the outcome would've been a lot worse, but even still they were going to need to check everyone for a device.

He paged a security detail, and found himself folding into a chair. His groin felt like a hundred weight was pressing down, and he felt the tell-tale tightening of another contraction starting, this one hurting more than the one before.

Beckett was there, and then the security detail. Sheppard waved off Beckett, and steadied himself as the contraction ended, before moving on to inspect the men. All clear. And that was good, because now he knew his time was running short.

"Set up operations from the gateroom. All personnel will be checked and cleared for the control devices that were implanted on our people. Anyone unaccounted for needs to be located ASAP. Clear military personnel first. I want four man teams, armed with stunners and tranqs sweeping the halls at all time. Radio contact maintained -"

Another contraction began, "And someone go to level D, on the north pier, room 402, subsection C, and retrieve Dreya, now!" he gasped out the last part of the order because of the pain.

No longer attempting to hide how serious it was, he folded over and rocked, trying to find some way of coping with it. A good description would be someone sticking a knife into your intestines, and then slowly twisting them up around, like spaghetti on a fork.

"All right, Colonel, you've done your job, now let me do mine," Carson said gently, rubbing Sheppard's back, "just breathe, Son, not much more and this one will be over."

It seemed as if it went on forever, but John knew time was relative when a lot of pain was involved. His muscles slowly relaxed and he straightened, trying to act stronger than he felt for the others in the room that tended to keep glancing his way. "As long as it involves heavy duty painkillers, feel free," joked Sheppard lightly.

"A little of this, a little of that, and we'll have you squared away in no time."

Beckett helped him to his feet, and John wished for once he had a gurney to ride on, because the pain down below was not helped by gravity. "In fact, feel free to knock me out, Doc – for a long, long time." About twelve more weeks ought to do it, he thought irritably.

And on that thought, Traitor gave him a swift kick. John rubbed the spot and followed Beckett. "To the drugs," he muttered.

OoO

The next twenty-four hours did pass in a drug-induced haze, and Sheppard was vaguely aware of hard contractions, lots of pain, and feeling very hot. When he rejoined the land of the verbally coherent, it was to find Rodney McKay guarding his bedside, looking every bit the vigilant gargoyle of legends.

"What happened to you, McKay?" John asked roughly.

Rodney's head popped up from where it was draped on his chest. He blinked rapidly, and Sheppard could see the mental gears snapping into action.

Surprise was replaced by relief, then followed by irritability, and self-righteous anger tagged along. "You shot me!"

"You were being controlled by hostiles!" defended Sheppard. "Did you really think I'd believe that you subdued everybody?"

"For the record, Sheppard, the device didn't work on me, and when I saw you making your way in on the sensors, I made up a quick plan that would help. They thought I was under their control, and went along with it, and then you go and shoot me!"

John rubbed a spot on his abdomen that felt like Traitor's leg, and tried to look apologetic. He shrugged, "Sorry."

McKay's face betrayed his thoughts on that. Complete and total disbelief. "No, you're not."

"No, I'm not."

Sheppard looked around, suddenly wondering what had happened since he'd gotten settled and drugged. "Teyla and Ronon?"

McKay thumbed at some beds to Sheppard's left. "They'd been knocked out and left behind. When they came to, they dialed back, by then you'd already taken out the intruders, gate was open, and Beckett's been babying them since you've been too unconscious to appreciate his skills."

"That's good."

"I suppose, if you want to hear them back there whispering constantly," McKay leaned forward and lowered his voice, "Do you think there's anything going on, because the two of them, they're kind of-" he intertwined his two fingers and tugged, "- you know."

"No, Rodney, I don't know, why don't you explain it to me," Sheppard said sarcastically. "What about Dreya, and Elizabeth? Everyone cleared?"

"Yes, yes – everyone's fine, you did your best impression of Mission Impossible, or maybe a better term would be 'Revenge of the Nerds', I swear, Miko couldn't stop talking about how exciting it was to shoot people. Dreya's sleeping, by the time Carson got your labor stopped – which is a story I'll tell you in a minute, she was having some pain and he doped her before sending her off to bed. She left this morning -"

John sat up too quickly, and felt the pain his belly for it. "Left!" he exclaimed.

"To her room here, calm down. Anyway, she only dilated two centimeters, so Beckett has her on bed rest to keep it from starting up again."

That had scared him. Oddly enough, it was comforting knowing she was here. It wasn't so much her, as it was Traitor. Having the baby nearby was…comforting.

"The prisoners?" Sheppard wanted to get his hands on them and find out who they were, and where they'd come from.

"Locked up, in more ways than one." Rodney pulled one of the devices from his pocket. "These were on them, also, which suggests -"

"That someone else was controlling them," finished Sheppard.

"Good to see you haven't developed that thing called pregnancy brain."

John threw his pillow at McKay.

"I'll be kicking you out, Rodney, if you keep getting my patients riled up," scolded Carson, moving their way at hearing the commotion. He picked up the pillow before McKay could, and slid it under Sheppard, who rightly enough, grinned wolfishly at Rodney. "How're you feeling, Colonel? Any contractions since you woke?"

Traitor kicked impatiently, and John rubbed whatever part was poking him. "None, what was that stuff you gave me?" What he could remember was pretty weird. He'd felt out of it, and not from pain medication out of it.

"Magnesium sulfate, the big guns of stopping premature labor," explained Beckett. "It'll make you feel wretched, but it does the job. I had to give Dreya some Terbutaline this time, and put her on bed rest. This baby is anxious to get out, but it's still a bit too early for my liking."

"When is it safe?" If Traitor was determined to come early, a fact he now found himself very bothered by, he wanted to know the magic number to shoot for.

"Preferably, not till the thirty-sixth week and on, but if the little lass, or lad, insists – I'd like to hit at least thirty-two weeks."

"And guess what that means," crowed Rodney.

Sheppard fixed McKay with a dirty look, because if it made McKay happy, he couldn't imagine it'd make him happy. "I don't know, why don't you tell me?" Like he wouldn't do it anyway. And enjoy every moment of it.

"Bed rest, Colonel. And yours truly has volunteered to be 'mother's little helper'."

If it'd been possible for him to drop to lower depths, he hadn't known it till now. But he wasn't going to give the man the satisfaction. "Great," he deadpanned.

Beckett's lips twitched, yet he tried to pretend he was innocent. "Sorry, Colonel. My staff is overwhelmed as it is. I'm sure Rodney will be very…helpful."

Sheppard had to fight hard not to show just how much he believed that McKay would be helpful. Helpful to the point of smothering. He'd have more milk, and vitamins, and bed rest then he'd know what to do with before this was over.

"How long?" he asked, not quite hiding his misery.

"A couple weeks, if everything stays good, then we'll let you up and about, and see how your body reacts – now, about those kick counts…"

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

AN: Just a quick note to say that the comments about Shep being put through the wringer...well, we're _whumpers_, peoples, it's what we do! We are guilty of whumping in the first degree...and second...and third, and well, if you stick around long enough, I'm sure we can go pretty high. Thanks again for reading and commenting and giving your time to this little story (well, maybe not so little anymore). We do appreciate all the comments, and the insight given by many of you. Sometimes comments make me think about an angle I didn't even consider, so keep it coming!

**NOT THE DADDY...part 22**

**Pregnancy clock: 7 months, 1 week**

John was bored. No, scratch that. He had passed bored about three days ago and Rodney was not helping matters any. Nor did it make him feel better that Dreya was up and about again while he was stuck in bed. Bored.

"Want to play chess?" Rodney asked. Then he turned away and sneezed. Loudly.

"No." John folded his arms over his chest and did his best not to pout. Then added grumpily, "Bless you."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "You really are five years old, aren't you? Gin Rummy?"

John plucked at the bed covers. "I want to talk to Caldwell." Caldwell who was back on Atlantis and totally taking over John's job. He had been off on the Daedalus during the take over but had arrived back the day after the take over.

"Why would you want to talk to Caldwell?" Rodney countered, looking nervous. "You hate the man."

"I don't hate him," John groused. Because he didn't. He just didn't like him all that much. Big difference, which John did not feel the need to point out to the resident genius.

Rodney made a face. "Do you want to watch a movie? We got a new shipment when the Daedalus returned."

John considered then shook his head. "I'm not in the mood."

"Then what do you want to do?" Rodney was clearly frustrated and he wasn't hiding it.

"I want to talk to Caldwell," John repeated, speaking slowly and clearly so that Rodney would get the hint this time.

Rodney sighed dramatically then blurted out, "He's busy."

Suspicion flicked John right between the eyes. "Rodney?" he drawled, as he shifted to sit up straighter against the piles of pillows that were mounded behind his back. "What's going on?"

"Nothing!" Rodney winced, knowing he had given himself away. "Why do you want to see Caldwell anyway?"

"Because Weir won't tell me what's going on with the prisoners. Nor will Teyla or Ronon or YOU!" John let his frustration out full force as he glared at Rodney.

Rodney just glared back. "That's because Beckett told us we weren't to upset you upon pain of death, you moron!"

John felt a twinge of satisfaction at Rodney's reply. "Now he was getting somewhere. "And why would telling me about the prisoners upset me?" he prompted.

"Because of the whole...death by mass suicide via cyanide capsule in the tooth scenario," Rodney stated. "Only it wasn't cyanide, it was some other kind of poison and...oh no." Rodney trailed off and looked miserable as he realized what he had just said.

"Suicide?" John stared at Rodney in disbelief. "All of them? But did they say who they were? Who had sent them? Anything?"

Rodney sat down at the foot of the bed and buried his face in his hands. "I am so dead," he mumbled into his palms. "Just kill me now."

John poked him with his foot, which was not easy to do since his legs were buried under piles of covers and Rodney was sitting on the end of the blankets. "I'm not stressed," he said firmly. Which was mostly the truth. He was stunned and upset and angry, but he was trying his best to remain calm for Traitor's sake.

"They said nothing," Rodney confessed, lifting his head to lock eyes with John. "They killed themselves immediately after they all woke up."

"Sonofabitch!" John pulled at the covers, wanting to get up and pace. Wanting to punch the wall. Wanted to do SOMETHING. Anything.

Rodney blocked him. "What do you think you're doing?"

John knew he couldn't lay there a minute longer. "I have to pee." Which was actually true. "Then I'm going to take a shower."

"No shower," Rodney shot back.

"Beckett said I can take one short shower every other day," John shot back. Which he hated. He liked taking at least one shower a day. Not that he needed one a day at the moment. He didn't do anything to work up a sweat.

Rodney opened his mouth to argue but snapped it closed. "Fine. Shower. But keep it short. While you're in there I'll go get you something to eat."

John made a face. "I just ate lunch an hour ago."

"Your point being?" Rodney replied, then he rolled his eyes at the pitiful look John aimed at him. "Puhleez. You know Beckett is trying to fatten you up." He reached out and poked a finger at John's bicep. "Not that it's working. You're still skin and bones."

"I am not!" John protested, vehemently. He was tired of everyone picking on him for being lean. It had been the bane of his childhood existence and had followed him into adulthood. "I've just got a good metabolism," John said, feeling the need to defend himself.

Rodney shrugged. "Whatever makes you feel better about yourself," he allowed. Then he was hovering over John as he got up and headed for the bathroom.

John pinned him with a glare. "I can walk to the bathroom by myself, Rodney. Go away."

"Fine...be that way!" Rodney groused. "I'll be back in ten minutes and I expect to find you back in bed. Got it?"

John's reply was the middle finger tossed over his shoulder. He knew Rodney didn't take anything he said, or did, to heart. They both knew he was cranky and that it was only going to get worse. Beckett was still insisting that John would be stuck in bed for at least another two weeks. He was pretty sure he'd be considering hari kari long before then.

Once in the bathroom, John took care of business then he stripped, trying to ignore the pull in his belly where a uterus would be IF he were really pregnant. He rubbed the spot as he _thought_ the water on then stepped in and luxuriated in the feel of the warm, wet, spray. But John knew enough not to linger. Rodney would be on his case and not back off. So he washed up quickly, got dressed in clean boxers and sweatpants with a t-shirt and socks and padded back into the other room. Only to freeze in surprise to see Dreya there. "Aren't you supposed to be resting...in bed?"

"I've been released from bed rest," Dreya reminded him.

He remembered, and it only made him more irritable. "Are you sure it's okay?" John questioned. Although she did look good. Glowing and happy.

Dreya nodded. "I am sure. Remember, John...you are the one who suffers for me. Which, again, I cannot thank you enough for accepting this."

John sighed and ran his fingers through his damp hair. "Yeah...well...it's not like I have a choice." He smiled as he spoke. They had reached a point, without him really noticing when, where they could talk about this and John no longer got angry. He really had accepted it. Not that he was happy about it. Less so when Dreya gestured for him to get back in bed, which he did with ill grace. Then Dreya was bringing over the lap tray with a huge sandwich and a giant glass of milk on it. John was surprised. "Where's Rodney?"

"He got called to his lab. I was passing by and he sent me along with the tray and with strict orders to take care of you." Dreya was grinning as she fussed with the covers.

"Figures." John ignored the sandwich but took a swig of milk, then he gestured to the tray. "Can you set it aside. I'm really not hungry right now."

Dreya pointed to the cup of blue Jell-o. "Not even for your favorite?" she prompted.

John grimaced and poked the wiggly substance. "I'm really starting to hate that stuff," he confessed. He leaned back to let Dreya take the tray, then he started crumpling the bed spread in his fingers. There wasn't much else to do.

"Can I get you anything?" Dreya asked, moving to sit in the chair next to the bed.

"Nothing," John assured her. "Just talk to me. I'm going stir crazy." He saw her quizzical look and explained,"It's just an expression. Basically...I'm ready to climb the walls with boredom."

Dreya nodded, one hand reaching out to grasp his and squeeze. "Would you like me to sing to you?" she asked.

John was surprised by her offer. "You sing? Cool. Sure...sing away." He was tired of the music on his Ipod anyway. So when Dreya started singing in a soft and beautiful voice, John let his eyes drift closed so he could better focus on the words. He realized she was telling a story of her people, that she was giving him a history lesson, in a sense. John smiled to himself as he let his body relax and, eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

OoO

Rodney was sleeping. Snoring like a chain saw and John wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste. He slid out of bed and padded, silently, over to the door. But even as he reached for the door pad a voice screamed in his ear,

"What the hell are you doing out of bed and where the hell do you think you're going?" Rodney was right behind him and furious. "Get back in bed! Right now!" He nudged John in the right direction.

John thought about resisting but he knew Rodney would call in reinforcements. "I can't stand this room!" John snapped, even as he let Rodney push him back down onto the bed and cover him up. "I'm going to go crazy if I can't get out of here!" And he meant it.

Rodney looked angry but thoughtful. "I may be able to do something about that," he allowed.

"Really?" John was hopeful. "What?"

"Go back to sleep, you'll see in the morning." Rodney fussed with the covers then glared. "If you're good." He suddenly turned away and sneezed, three times in succession. "Stupid allergies," he mumbled.

John just glared back then closed his eyes. He'd be good. Anything to get out of this room.

OoO

Rodney was true to his word. After breakfast he took off, looking a bit distressed. But he promised to be back shortly with John's surprise. Fifteen minutes later the door opened.

John stared as Ronon entered the room, pushing a wheel chair. "You're kidding me, right?" John stared at the chair then up at Ronon.

"Nope." Ronon patted the back of the chair. "McKay got called away so he asked me to take you out. You get one hour. Get in."

"I'm not getting in a wheel chair." John folded his arms and tightened his jaw.

Ronon shrugged. "Okay." He turned to go.

John grimaced and called him back. "Wait!" Sliding out of bed he settled himself in the chair, hating how being in it made him feel fragile and weak. He heaved a sigh. "Okay...let's go."

"Okay." Ronon pushed him out the door. "Where do you want to go?"

"Outside." John was dying for fresh air and sunshine. He found himself grinning the closer they got to the nearest balcony and once there he made to rise only to find a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Ronon stared down at him. "Stay or you go back."

John pouted but it had no effect on the big guy. So he stayed. "Beautiful day," John commented, as he sucked in lungfuls of sea air.

"Yeah." Ronon moved to stand by the railing. "You okay?" he asked, suddenly.

"Sure." John realized what Ronon was asking. "Can't wait till this is all over, but...I'm good." He could feel the intensity of Ronon's stare, then the other man was nodding. Accepting John's word as truth.

They spent the next half hour just enjoying the view, enjoying quiet time which John found to be strangely invigorating. Only to have it interrupted by Rodney who bustled out onto to the balcony with an armful of blanket. Which he spread out over John's lap.

John slapped at his hands. "I'm not some fucking invalid, Rodney!" he snapped. He really was tired of the man fussing over him.

"It's cold out here!" Rodney slapped back and continued fussing, then he looked at Ronon. "You can go now."

Ronon shrugged, sent John a sympathetic look, then left.

John sighed and was about to yell at Rodney, instead he said quietly, "Thank you." He knew Rodney was just looking out for him and the baby.

"You're welcome," Rodney said, then he sneezed.

THE END...of part 22


	23. Chapter 23

**AN:** What a bunch of paranoid readers we've got here. Rodney sneezes, and you all automatically think 'ruh, roh raggy'...snicker...we've trained you good... I tease more than Dr. Z, sorry!...mostly... **  
**

**Not the Daddy…part 23**

**Pregnancy clock: 7 months, 2 weeks**

"Don't you have pills for that?" Sheppard handed McKay a tissue and tried to wipe off his arm.

Rodney took it and mopped his nose. "Of course I do, and I took one an hour ago. I don't know why it's not working – ask that man who thinks he's a doctor."

"Did you stop to think it might not be allergies?"

Rodney's eyes widened. "You think so? Because I've been so worried about you and the baby, that I haven't been sleeping well, and eating – I know I've been coming up short on the recommended daily vitamin amounts."

Sheppard was torn. On one hand, the urge to poke McKay into more ranting was pretty high, because at this point, it was kind of the highlight of his day, but on the other hand, Rodney had just confessed that he was so worried he's been losing sleep and skipping meals. Can you be touched, and disappointed at the same time?

"You've been losing sleep over me?" he asked softly, deciding the teasing can always be put off for another time. After all, McKay tended to 'open mouth, insert foot' more times in a day then most people did in a week. So, he was good.

"The bags under my eyes didn't give it away? Honestly, do you ever notice your surroundings? You're the head of the military contingent, what kind of faith does that instill if you don't even notice simple observations in your surroundings!"

Defensive Rodney. Which John knew equaled nervous Rodney. Sheppard narrowed his eyes shrewdly at him. "What's up, Rodney, something you want to tell me?"

McKay reached for the handles on John's wheelchair, and started it in a turn, heading back inside. "Look at the time, Carson will have my head if I don't get you back to bed."

And now…retreating Rodney.

"McKay -" Sheppard tried to confront him, but Traitor did a flip that almost felt like he popped out of his belly. He flinched, and pushed a hand against the bulging part, which still had his mind reeling because there wasn't really a bulging part there.

The wheelchair stopped, and McKay dropped in front of him. "Are you okay? Not a contraction, please tell me it isn't a contraction – you tell that baby to stop being so inconsiderate."

That was typical McKay and kids. And then Rodney just rolled on and on and on. He was starting to creep John out.

"Would you stop," he said churlishly, pushing McKay's hand off his stomach. "It was only a hard kick, relax already."

McKay almost lingered as if he thought Sheppard was lying, but finally stood back up. Even as John relaxed, McKay's hand shot out, and back to his belly.

"Rodney!"

"Just checking," he said. But he did pull his hand back. Rodney peered at John's abdomen and lectured, "Stop pestering him, kid. Be good. I'll even make you a rattle that plays Mozart, and Bach – none of that evil lullaby stuff, it'll give you nightmares."

"What about Beethoven? The Fifth is my favorite."

McKay met his eyes. "You would like the Fifth," he said.

And he'd passed up the opportunity to poke him. Damn it…

"Can we just go?" he asked irritably. Traitor was beginning to move about, his back was aching and he wanted out of this wheelchair. And truthfully, he wished he hadn't bypassed the sandwich earlier.

"Fine. You're looking pale anyway," said McKay, before he was caught up in another sneeze.

Sheppard ducked, hollering "tissue!"

Rodney apologized, but Sheppard had had enough. He'd been sneezed on, relegated to this stupid chair – okay, the chair was pissing him off the most. Either way, he just wanted to retreat to his room.

Only ten more weeks…ten more long unbearable weeks.

OoO

The rest of the day didn't go much better. Beckett had McKay deliver him to the infirmary for a check-up. There he found out his blood pressure was up and despite eventually passing the glucose test that he'd been forced to repeat, the one he'd told Beckett that he'd passed good enough the first time, he was going to have to take another one next week.

When he pointed out that Beckett had said '24 weeks and 32 weeks', Carson had replied, "Aye, but I figure if I say 31 weeks, then maybe it'll get done before the baby is born!"

Ten more weeks. Just ten more weeks.

That night, when Sheppard was wondering why he felt so tired after spending the day in bed except for a few hours, McKay showed up again. John wasn't really in the mood, but Rodney looked even more disgruntled than usual.

He sulked in the door, and kicked back in a chair. "It's not allergies."

Sheppard peered over the book he was reading. "I never thought it was."

McKay folded his arms and kept sulking.

"Look, Rodney, why don't you go get some sleep. You look like you could use a few days."

"I don't want to. If I go anywhere, it should be back to the lab. I'm so behind it'll be next year before I'm caught up," he sighed and glared at John's belly before adding, "and it's all your fault. Not even born, and you're making me miss work. If we were on Earth, I'd be fired."

"If we were on Earth, this isn't a conversation we'd ever be having," snorted Sheppard. But, he put his book down. "You do realize that this baby isn't ours, right?"

"Sure he is." McKay didn't even sound nonplussed over Sheppard's denial. "And you can teach him football, while I make sure he learns the fine art of hockey, the real mans sport."

There were so many disturbing implications in that sentence that Sheppard had a hard time choosing which one to address first. "What if 'he' is a 'she'?"

McKay shrugged, clearly not worried. "It's 2005, Colonel. Girls can play as well as boys. She's our kid, she'll be tough enough. Besides, I think it's a boy and I'm always right."

Ours? "Am I missing something, because this kid doesn't have any genetic material from me, and when did the kid become part you? I haven't seen you throwing up, or getting kicked or any of the other gems I've gotten to deal with -"

"Biology plays a small part in being a parent. Besides, he likes me."

And Sheppard wondered at times what it was like living in Rodney's world.

"What are you going to do when Dreya takes the baby back to Eradia?" he asked quietly.

It was a question he'd been asking himself lately. Despite his intentions, he was falling for the baby. The kicks reassured and delighted him, almost as much as it scared him. Now that Dreya was staying in the city, the thought of her leaving made him want to panic.

And if he thought it made him panic, the look of horror on McKay's face was exponentially greater than his. "You're not going to let her?"

"McKay, I'm not her husband!"

"No, but -"

Sheppard interrupted, "There's no buts, it's that simple."

"You can't let her just walk away, take the baby -"

The pillow that smacked Rodney hit with a pleasing thud, and Sheppard rolled to his side, sending a clear message for him to get out, because he _didn't_ want to let her just walk away with the baby, but how to get her to stay?

McKay didn't get the message, and Sheppard felt Rodney's weight pull the edge of the bed downward. McKay tugged at his shoulder, till John rolled back to face his nemesis.

"You're afraid," accused Rodney. "So why are you giving up?"

"I don't have the right to make her stay," John admitted, feeling uncomfortable not only with the conversation but with how close McKay was sitting.

"Yes, you do!" McKay exploded, thumping the mattress. "Damn it, Sheppard, she gave you the right when she did this to you! Don't you walk away from this baby. You earned the right to see that kid grow up, I've earned the right. Don't give up, for both of us." And the last part was more begging than either man expected.

The moment was tense, and thick, their faces only inches apart, and then Rodney sneezed.

Sheppard jerked back, swearing. "Go to bed!" he snapped, wiping his face.

"Fine, fine, but I'm not forgetting our conversation, and I'm not going to let you!"

McKay got up, but pushed the pillow towards John's head on his way up. "I'll be back in the morning. Stay in bed!"

Sheppard was so relieved for it to be over that he didn't even protest the mothering. But as he lay there, his mind refused to stop replaying the entire thing over and over again.

OoO

When he woke in the morning, he knew he'd caught McKay's cold. His head felt heavy, his nose stuffed, and his throat was sore. As if he didn't have enough to make him miserable.

And on that cue, Traitor kicked him, and rolled. John tried to rub him into quietness, but Traitor continued to move about, as if trying to find a comfortable spot.

"Suppose it's getting kind of cramped in there," he mused. "Good thing you're in her, and not me, or it'd be a lot more than cramped. Talk about being in a locked spot and no way out."

His door chimed, and before he could even say 'come in', McKay stormed through like a whirlwind.

"Do you know what that hair-brained Czech did now?" he demanded.

Sheppard would've defended Zelenka before, but after the teasing, well – Zelenka could stand to take a few hits. "What?" he drawled trying to inflect the right amount of sympathy.

McKay pulled a baby bottle out from behind his back. Inside the bottle was clear liquid.

"Water?" tried Sheppard.

The bottle was thrust under John's nose. Woah. That was impressive, especially when you counted the state of stuffiness going on in there. That was better than Vicks Vapor Rub.

"Okay, I give. I can't see why Zelenka filled a baby bottle with moonshine."

A note was thrust in his face.

Frowning, John opened the note, and read.

_For every daddy-to-be,_

_Courage in a bottle._

_It'll see you through the long labor ahead._

_Stay strong, Rodney, and I'll sign the cast when Colonel Sheppard breaks bones next time._

_R.Z._

Oh, my. Looks like Dr. Z was being true to his word, and took the teasing off of John, but transferred it to McKay.

"I'll take it," said Sheppard, reaching for the bottle.

"No, you won't!" McKay yanked the bottle back. "Pregnant – people shouldn't drink."

His stumble almost made Sheppard laugh. If it hadn't pissed him off so much. "You know," he was interrupted by a sneeze, "for someone who is so worried over my well-being, you sure show it in a weird way. I caught you cold. I've been infected by Rodney germs, and I can already feel my cells shriveling from the contact."

That stopped McKay. He paled. "You're sick?"

Now he'd done it. Crap. "It's only a cold," he backpedaled.

But Rodney was already hitting the ear piece. "Carson, Sheppard's sick, I need you to -"

Sheppard lurched at him, cursing at a bulky stomach that wasn't there, but hitting his mark. McKay's hand flew off the ear piece. However, Sheppard hadn't planned on momentum, and they wound up falling to the floor in a heap.

John rolled, groaning. God, that hurt, and then Traitor kicked him a good one somewhere up high to add insult to injury.

"What were you thinking?" snapped McKay, recovering faster than Sheppard, and trying to help him back up.

"What were you thinking?" retorted Sheppard. "It's a cold, McKay. People get colds all the time. God damn it, quit hovering like some obsessive -"

The door opened, and Beckett and Weir jogged in, both looking slightly breathless, and stopping in surprise at finding John and Rodney tangled up on the floor.

"We, uh, heard the call cut out, and thought something was wrong," stumbled Elizabeth. She studied the two men puzzled before asking, "Are you two all right?"

Sheppard pushed a hand against McKay's shoulders, levering himself up towards the bed, and trying to ignore the ache in his stomach. "Get. Him. Out. Of. Here!" he growled. "In fact, all of you, GET OUT!"

Everyone retreated – except Beckett. He stepped aside for Rodney and Elizabeth, who took turns discussing Sheppard's irritability, and that only made the steam that he was sure was pouring off him, increase.

"I don't need a doctor," he said crossly.

"I'm just going to take a listen, you don't want any nasties developing in your condition."

"You promise you'll leave then, and I can finally get some peace?" Sheppard was desperate for some alone time. It almost seemed like a conspiracy the way people kept descending upon him.

Carson nodded, "But, you need to promise to stay in bed, understood?"

"I'll kiss your own mother, Doc, just – finish and go," he pleaded.

The exam didn't take long, and the good news was that Beckett wasn't hauling him to the infirmary, the bad news was that doc was frowning at him.

"Your lungs sound a bit junky, and if you weren't -"

"Don't say it," Sheppard interrupted sharply. "Just – don't say it."

"Pregnant," said Beckett purposefully. "I'd give you some Albuterol, or Xoponex, to clear the airways but bronchodilators are a class C, and I'd rather hold off since we aren't exactly sure how the bond works with medications and the baby. I can't see how it could possibly cross the placenta, but -"

"It's okay, Doc. I feel fine, a little congested, but I'm sure I'll live." He tried to assure Carson, because he understood how frustrating this bond was for everyone else. As much as it was driving him near to crazy, he knew it had almost everyone else seeing cross-eyed.

"I'll have someone check on you a little later today. Have you had your breakfast, yet?"

His stomach rumbled and Traitor kicked out in surprise. "That would be a no."

"I'll have some sent your way, and I want you to eat it all. You're not running a temperature and we want to keep it that way."

There was something in the way Carson said it that had Sheppard's hair prickling on his back. "Doc, something you want to explain?" And it took all he had not to add 'like before' when Beckett had failed to explain their suspicions of the intensity of the bond.

The frown deepened. "Unchecked fevers, especially high, can be dangerous for an unborn baby."

"But it's not in me, Doc," said Sheppard tersely.

"Neither was the uterus that responded to the medications that stopped Dreya's premature labor."

And didn't that just figure. Somehow he thought he was getting the short end of the stick with this deal, but now maybe the one really getting screwed was Traitor. Not only mom's health caused complications, but Dad's as well. Wasn't that double jeopardy?

"I promise to be good, okay? Now go." The ironic thing is, he would follow orders now, because the dangers to Traitor kept it real, and he wouldn't risk the kid's life for his own selfish reasons. Not after all he'd gone through to get here. Ten more weeks, but only six more till Doc was happy about Traitor's odds. He could do six more weeks of being a model patient.

Maybe a decent patient, he amended to himself, because he needed the outlet in complaining and whining, and generally being a bear.

Carson looked like he believed John, and he headed towards the door. "Remember," he admonished, tipping the stethoscope in his hands towards Sheppard, "eat everything."

Finally, the door shut behind the man, and Sheppard was alone, blissfully, peacefully, alone.

OoO

He must have dozed off, because he was being woken by someone gently shaking his shoulder.

"John," she called.

Sheppard thought about feigning he was still sleeping, but he knew the voice, and he'd missed talking to her lately.

"Elizabeth, what brings you into Sheppard's Haven for the Lost and Confused Pregnant People?" he drawled sleepily.

"Carson asked me to bring you some breakfast, and see how you're feeling." She looked ruefully at the clock. "Though it's more like brunch."

John squinted at the clock. Eleven. He'd slept for a few hours, and still felt sluggish. His throat hurt enough to take his appetite away, because the thought of trying to force food past that soreness wasn't a good thought. Then he caught a whiff of the plate.

His face broke into a relieved grin. "Is that scrambled eggs?"

She returned his smile, and whisked the lid off with dramatic whirls. "It is."

He was so hungry the thought of those eggs was almost better than thinking about sex. You know you're pretty damn hungry if you think that. Sheppard reached for the tray even as he sat up.

Traitor was quiet, still sleeping he guessed. Seeing the glass of orange juice next to the plate of eggs, John figured he'd be in for some acrobatics soon. All the sugar in orange juice gave the kid Olympic endurance. In fact, he suspected it's why McKay had started insisting John have two glasses a day, and he always seemed to hang around after giving Sheppard his glass. Then laid his hand on Sheppard's belly and proclaimed the little Traitor liked him.

He took a bite, and chewed slowly, reverently.

Elizabeth sat in the chair and her lips quirked in amusement. "That good, hmm?"

He chewed a bit and answered, "You have no idea."

While he ate, Elizabeth brought him up to date on the issues with the city. The Athosians had a viral outbreak, but Beckett's team had kept it isolated to the mainland. The new alpha site was compromised, so another search was underway – and Teyla and Ronon had gone on another trade mission. That brought to mind McKay's question in the infirmary. If there wasn't something up between the two. If there was, he could only hope they'd keep it quiet. As team leader, you can't have two people involved on the same team. It compromises mission safety. It affects decisions. It was bad business.

John pushed the now empty tray away, and finished his juice. "When are they due back?" he asked about Ronon and Teyla.

"Tomorrow, but I gave them a twenty-four window to use at their discretion. Teyla said the Baku people can be…difficult."

If Teyla said the people were difficult, you can bet they were ten shades of obstinate, and she'd need that window. He didn't like his people out on missions without him. It left him feeling uneasy, helpless – out of control.

There wasn't anything he could do, and with a savage kick from down below, he guessed some things were worth it. Maybe.

And who turned up the heat? He lifted a paper and fanned his face, only to stop when Elizabeth stared at him. "It's hot," he said, defensively. Beckett had told him that it was normal.

"It's not hot, John." She reached forward and tried to put a hand against his forehead, but he jerked back.

"I'm fine. Beckett said it's normal to feel hot."

"Normal to feel warm, maybe, but you're flushed. Stop acting like a baby, and hold still," she scolded, before reaching for a second time.

This time he didn't pull back, but he wanted to. Do you get points for intent?

She yanked her hand back, and staring at him fearfully, paged Beckett. Damn damn damn. Rodney and his geek germs, always trying to be an overachiever. Even his viral cells had to create problems for him.

He leaned back, and closed his eyes, knowing it'd only be moments before Carson and his goons descended on him. This sucked.

OoO

It was a testament to how high his fever climbed, that he didn't complain about the ride via gurney to the infirmary, but he drew the line at being hooked to the heartbeat and contraction monitors. When he'd asked why he needed that, the nurse had said it's standard procedure when a pregnant – person (and yes, stumbled right there) was admitted and they were in their second or third trimester.

He told her where to stick the standard procedure, which earned him some harsh words from Carson, and he apologized – for her being so close minded by her training to fail to realize that he wasn't pregnant and he wasn't standard procedure.

Then Beckett had dismissed the crying nurse, and stuck the thermometer in his mouth none too gently. He imagined some day he'd feel apologetic, but today wasn't that day.

"102.3, Colonel – looks like you'll be staying."

As if he had any doubt. Looking at the belts dubiously he asked, "Not on this thing the whole time?"

"If you shout at my nurses like that again, yes – otherwise, I'll see what we can do about those."

Beckett poked and prodded, gave him a shot of ibuprofen, and started him on some antibiotics. "Looks like a secondary infection, possibly pneumonia, but it's mild. You stay down and follow orders, it'll clear."

And Sheppard made his second mistake for the day. "You said that before."

The antibiotic shot hurt a lot more than any other.

He was finally left alone, after his fever had dropped to 99.8 about forty minutes after the medicine. Carson thought that was a good sign, and left him to rest.

Rest and infirmary were conflicting statements. You didn't get one in the other, period. Unless you had serious problems, and then generally you didn't care where you were.

Traitor kicked wearily in his belly, and John rubbed the parts prodding him. "I know kid, I'm beat, too."

He found his eyes drifting shut on their own, totally ignoring his thoughts on rest and the infirmary.

OoO

The remainder of his week passed with a lot of annoyance, and grumpiness on his part. The antibiotics did work, but Carson wouldn't let him go until he was sure that John was recovering. He also made him do that glucose test while he was stuck in the infirmary.

If that wasn't bad enough, his blood pressure was even higher, and Carson was starting to get concerned.

"Colonel, you're almost 31 weeks along, this is the prime spot for women to develop pre-eclampsia."

To which, he'd exploded "I'm not a woman!"

Calmly, Carson had held up his prenatal folder and said, "But you're pregnant, and seeing how the big day is getting closer, I'd think you'd be over the denial stage. Aye, there is no physical body, but everything else is as it should be, and I dare imagine, come delivery, you're going to be begging for the same drugs any pregnant woman would – unless I'm wrong?" he phrased the last as a question, and lifted an eyebrow at Sheppard, knowing full well the answer.

"Yes," gritted John. "I would take a damn epidural now if you'd do it, so have your fun at the pregnant man with the non-existent baby in his stomach."

That's when Dreya showed up. They say that timing is everything, and she seemed to have a doozy ability with it. First nailing him on Eradia, and ever since.

"Doctor Beckett said I could visit now," she said, looking back at the door upon seeing the stiff posture of Beckett and the scowling face on Sheppard. "If it's a bad…time…" she trailed off uncertainly.

"It's fine," said Sheppard. Good as time as any.

She seemed to accept it, and came closer. "How are you feeling? Rodney told me how sick you were. He was very upset."

Rodney? Upset – "McKay's been seeing you?"

She positively beamed. "Oh, yes! He's been very kind, telling me the stories of how you met, and -"

"How we met?" Sheppard echoed. Rodney _kind_, went through his mind next. Then he got suspicious. "What kind of stories?"

She giggled. "The time you got lost on the way back to your friends, and then the time the kids took you prisoner, you've had some funny adventures."

He'd warped her. That was the only explanation. He'd gotten to her, and contaminated her.

"And, what else did he say?"

Now the grin fell, and she grew sober. "He asked if I would consider staying. That you could use another engineer in the city, and that we'd be cared for here."

Sheppard felt his insides freeze. He'd wanted to be the one to approach Dreya. He didn't trust McKay with the job. Rodney and tact were polar opposites, like oil and water, there wasn't any mixing, and nowhere in the middle.

Traitor rolled lazily to the side, and he felt the strong sense of skin stretching outwards, to the point where he pushed downward automatically. It was kind of alarming to see Dreya mimicking the same movement. Or he was mimicking her…or, god this was so confusing, and he'd been doing it for a while.

"I'm thinking about it," she answered honestly. "Am I really welcome?"

He tripped over his tongue trying to assure her she was.

Her easy grin returned, and he felt his hopes jump. He rubbed Traitor some more, and actually wondered what the kid would look like.

Curiously he asked, "Do you have any pictures of your husband?"

Her face drooped, and he regretted the question.

"Never mind, that was thoughtless," he hurried to say.

"It's all right, John. It is something I have begun to get used to. The bond, part of it, well – it helps. I don't feel so alone. Does that make sense?"

It did, and for a first, he didn't feel a flash of anger towards her.

"I'm glad," he said sincerely. It still didn't change that he'd hated it in the beginning. It didn't erase how angry he'd felt, or how used, and resentful – but it was something.

And as the day waned outside, the two conversed quietly, till Sheppard was wore out again, and fell asleep, and Dreya found herself leaving towards the rooms she'd been assigned with a smile and a new spring to her step. For the first time in ten months, she didn't cry herself to sleep.

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

**NOT THE DADDY...part 24**

**Pregnancy clock: 7 months, 3 weeks**

"Dreya looks happier."

John nearly jumped at the voice that was almost in his ear. He turned to find Teyla smiling at him. John shifted in the wheel chair. "Yeah...she does," he acknowledged. "So...you lost?" John teased.

Teyla merely continued smiling and shook her head. "I am here to take you to the infirmary. Dr. Beckett said that you have a scheduled appointment."

"When don't I?" John grumbled. He was feeling much better now that his cold and virus thing was over, but still tired and weak, and Beckett was practically hovering over him. Although he had let John out of his room, via the wheel chair, since yesterday. But only for an hour at a time and only with a keeper near by. John had been expecting Rodney. They hadn't really talked since Dreya had confessed about her discussion with McKay.

"Are you ready?" Teyla asked, wisely ignoring his mutterings.

John sighed then nodded. "Guess so." He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and pressed his cheek into his palm as Teyla pushed him down the hallway. They chatted a bit along the way.

Teyla did most of the talking. "Dreya likes it here."

"Yeah...I think she does," John said, and he was starting to wonder if there was a reason Teyla was bringing this up.

"The two of you have gotten close," Teyla continued.

John turned his head and eyed her with suspicion. "Of course we have. I'm sharing her pregnancy for Pete's sake!"

Teyla frowned. "Who is Pete?"

"It's an expression," John waved one hand to dispel her focus on that. "Teyla...you don't think that Dreya and I...um...you know." He couldn't say the words but he could see that Teyla did know what he was trying to say.

"I think that you care about each other, deeply," Teyla said, her tone soft and low. "I think that Dreya could care about you as something more than a bond mate and friend."

And now the light bulb went on and John felt stunned. Teyla was telling him that she believed Dreya was falling in love with him. "Um...it's just the bond thing," John countered, his words sounding pathetic to his own ears. "I mean...her husband died and she misses him and I'm sharing this _bond_ with her and she's just kinda...transferring. Right?" 

Teyla looked thoughtful. "Perhaps that is part of it," she allowed. "But I believe she cares about you in her own right. Is that so bad?"

"No...it's not bad." John meant it but, at the same time, he realized he really wasn't sure how he felt about this. And he wasn't sure how he felt about Dreya. He enjoyed her company and he was excited about the baby now and he couldn't imagine her not being in his life and..." Shit!" John buried his face in his hands. He was so confused. He wasn't in love with Dreya, that much he knew. But he wondered how he would feel about things after the baby was born. Right now he was content knowing that Dreya had agreed to remain on Atlantis after Traitor was born. She had already started work in Engineering and John knew that Rodney was very impressed with her. In fact, they were spending a lot of time together and Dreya often told John stories about Rodney's interactions with people. "She cares about Rodney too," John blurted out.

"She cares about everyone I think," Teyla replied, serenely. Then she announced, "We're here."

John hadn't noticed but, yep, they were. Beckett was striding forward to take him from Teyla. "Hey, Doc," John said in greeting.

Carson smiled at him. "Colonel. How are you feeling today?"

"Peachy." John waved at Teyla as Beckett grabbed the back of the chair.

"Still feeling tired?" Carson queried, as he wheeled John over to the curtained off section of the infirmary.

John shrugged. "I think I'm just feeling blah because of all the lying around," he offered. And he was so damn tired of doing that.

Carson patted the bed. "Jump up and we'll give you the once over." Once John did that, with his help, Carson went to work.

John closed his eyes as Beckett did his thing, almost dozing off because it had become so routine now. But he jolted back to full awareness when he heard Beckett say something surprising,

"...off bed rest. But you have to be careful," Carson said, shaking a finger at him.

"I'm off of bed rest?" John echoed, excitement just about crackling in his veins. He sat up and stared at Beckett, checking to see if the Scot was just putting him on for a laugh.

But Carson was smiling and nodding. "Aye...I thought that would get your attention and, yes. You're off bed rest, on a trial basis. But that doesn't mean you're back on duty and no running around. You're not to stay on your feet for extended periods of time. No more than ten minutes at a stretch then sit down for a bit. And you're to take naps throughout the day. I want you resting at least for an hour every four hours."

Still restrictive but John could work with that. "Does it start now?" he asked, hopefully.

"I suppose," Carson allowed. "Why don't you take a trip to the mess hall. Eat there then you can visit with Dr. Weir. She's expecting you in about an hour. Then I want you to rest. Understood?"

"Understood." John would have agreed to anything in that moment. He slid his legs over the side of the bed and pushed down to his feet. He clapped Beckett on the shoulder. "Thanks for springing me, Doc. Talk to you later."

Carson grabbed his arm before he could take a step away. "You still have to check in with me daily, Colonel. And I will hunt you down and you will regret it if I do," he warned.

John nodded. "Fine. Whatever." He tugged on his arm. "Can I go now?"

"Go already." Carson gave him a playful nudge. "But call me if you need me."

"Will do." John waved and headed for the door, a smile nearly splitting his face. Sweet freedom had never felt so good.

OoO

Because John didn't want to risk losing his freedom again, he did as Beckett said and headed for the messhall. It was just past normal lunch hour so the place wasn't packed and John stepped right into line. He felt more relaxed than he had in months and he chatted with the line guys as he made his way through. Then he found a table in the corner and settled in. Even his food tasted better now.

"Mind if I join you?"

John had been so wrapped up in eating he hadn't noticed anyone approach. He hid a wince and smiled at Caldwell. "Of course, Sir," he replied.

Caldwell sat down and opened his sandwich, then said, "Good to see you up and about, Colonel."

"Good to be up and about," John replied. He then held Caldwell's gaze, wondering what the man wanted from him.

"Getting closer to the due date," Caldwell stated, sandwich now unwrapped but just sitting on his plate. His focus was solely on John.

John nodded. "Not close enough," he admitted, and got a kick from Traitor for that one. He resisted the urge to rub his belly.

Caldwell almost smiled at that. "I understand that Dreya will be remaining on Atlantis."

"Yes, Sir." John said nothing more.

"Do you think that's a good thing?" Caldwell was blunt.

John felt his defenses rising. "Why wouldn't it be? She's proven herself useful."

Caldwell shrugged. "True enough, but won't she be a distraction. She and the baby?"

"A welcome one I would think," John replied, feeling his body tighten with tension. He could almost feel his blood pressure rising and Beckett was going to kill him. So John realized a hasty retreat was in order. "I have to go." He rose from his chair and grabbed his tray, the food barely touched. "Sir." John nodded at Caldwell and headed for the exit. He dumped his tray and strode out into the corridor. Once in the transporter he leaned against the wall and pressed a hand to his belly, trying to calm Traitor. Apparently the baby didn't like Caldwell much either. "He won't be here for much longer," John said, trying to soothe them both.

All too soon the doors opened and John pulled himself together. He was smiling as he exited and made his way to Weir's office. She was waiting for him, a smile on her own face.

"Come sit," Weir invited, pointing to a chair.

"You spoke with Beckett," John said, accusingly, even as he sat down. And he did so as if dealing with a huge belly, which made him a bit awkward. He was never going to get used to the fact that his body hadn't really changed.

Elizabeth nodded. "Of course I did. How does it feel to be free?"

John felt himself relaxing. "It feels great."

"Did you eat?"

"Yes." He rolled his eyes at her and she smiled. "I saw Caldwell. He's not happy about things."

Elizabeth shrugged. "He'll get over it. He'll be gone soon enough."

John snorted. "Or not soon enough. So...got any work for me?"

"No." Elizabeth gave him the evil eye. "You're not back on light duty, John, so just enjoy the time off."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, then he cheered up. "So...what did you want to see me about?"

Elizabeth studied him a moment then said, "About Dreya staying in Atlantis."

John frowned. "I though you approved that already? Both Dreya and Rodney said --"

"I did approve it," Elizabeth interjected. "What I'm asking is how you feel about it? Are you okay with it? Will it be a problem for you having the baby here?"

"I don't see why it would be," John replied, uncertain of the point Weir was trying to make.

Elizabeth narrowed her gaze at him, looking uncertain. Then she sighed and relaxed back in her chair. "I've been thinking that it might be a good idea for you to talk to Kate. Just talk to her about how you feel about everything that's happened."

John was beginning to catch on to what she was doing. "Is this a suggestion or are you making it mandatory to me returning to duty after the baby is born?" He didn't hide the anger he was feeling, it was sharp in his voice.

"Let's call it a strong suggestion, John," Elizabeth allowed. "You haven't really talked about this with anyone. You can't keep everything inside."

"Sure I can!" John was on his feet and glaring at her. "It's what I do. If I needed to talk, I would. Are we done?" He stood stiff and rigid, one hand pressed to his belly as Traitor started kicking up a storm. The baby could sense his stress and John knew it wasn't good for his blood pressure, which meant it wasn't good for Traitor.

Elizabeth seemed to realize he was getting uptight and that it would be a bad thing, so she backed off. "Just think about it," she said. "And, yes...we're done."

John said nothing, he simply turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

OoO

Because he was tired and pissed, John went back to his room and did nothing more than read and sleep. He woke up when Beckett came to check on him and tutted at him that his blood pressure was still a bit too high. He then got up and took a shower and headed for the messhall for dinner. He ran into Dreya and they talked about her childhood and she told him stories about her family and her home and they laughed and bonded and John found himself relaxing.

He then headed back to his room, feeling better about the world. To John's surprised, Rodney was there already, working on his laptop. "Hey, Rodney," John offered in greeting.

"I was just about to come look for you," Rodney countered, looking disgruntled. "Where have you been?"

"Having dinner with Dreya." John moved to stretch out on the bed. "We need to talk."

Rodney stopped typing. "Talk about what?"

John considered how to broach the subject at hand and decided to just put it out there, "Why didn't you tell me you talked to Dreya about staying here?"

"Because I figured you'd bitch at me," Rodney replied, with intense honesty. "And I knew you were too chickenshit to talk to her yourself so I handled it."

"I guess you did." John thought he should have been angry about it and he had been, hence his avoidance of the subject between them till now. He found that he felt grateful instead. "Thanks."

Rodney looked startled. "You're welcome. Can I get you anything? Want some juice?"

John shook his head. "Want to watch a movie?" he countered.

"I pick." Rodney typed for a moment then hit enter before grabbing the laptop and bringing it over to the bed.

"Fine, you pick," John allowed, as he settled in more comfortably against the pillows. Soon he was laughing over Rodney's choice. The Scooby Doo sequel. Then he found himself drifting off into peaceful slumber.

OoO

Three days later, John made his first foray back into Rodney's lab. Only to discover that Rodney was off and about somewhere else. So he killed some time chatting with Zelenka. The Czech updated him on some of the things they were working on, in between cataloging a table full of items.

"Ancient doo dads?" John asked.

"Yes, ones that do not work," Zelenka explained.

John was intrigued. "So they're safe to touch?"

Zelenka nodded. "Yes yes. We've tested them on dozens of people with the gene. Major Lorne is always happy to stop in and touch things." This said with a sideways look at John.

John knew what Zelenka was implying. "It's not that I mind touching things, I'm just busy and leery," he defended himself.

"Of course," Zelenka grinned.

"Any clue what this is supposed to be?" John asked, picking up what looked like a gold-plated baseball.

But before Zelenka could respond, the ball made a whirring sound and emitted a faint hiss.

Zelenka turned pale and plucked it out of John's hands, tossing it across the room. He then tapped his ear piece. "Dr. Beckett, we have medical emergency in lab. It is Colonel Sheppard!"

"Whoa...wait...I'm fine!" John insisted, trying to get Zelenka to stop pushing him towards the door. "Nothing happened."

"Go...get out of room just in case," Zelenka countered, still pushing.

John had just stepped out into the corridor when Beckett appeared, as if by magic. "That was fast," John said, properly impressed.

Carson was huffing a bit. "I was close by." He eyed John from head to toe, even as he wrist for his wrist. "What happened?"

"Nothing," John insisted.

"He activated Ancient device," Zelenka interjected. "It hissed. I tossed it away. Maybe nothing happened but I wish to play it safe."

Carson patted Zelenka on the shoulder. "You did the right thing. All right, Colonel, let's go to the infirmary."

John glared at Beckett then turned it on Zelenka. "Guys...I'm fine. Really." He looked appeasingly at Beckett. "You know I'd tell you if anything was wrong.

"Aye," Carson conceded. "But let's just confirm it, shall we?"

"Fine." John heaved a sigh and let himself be led off.

The only up side was Beckett telling Zelenka he had to go also, because he'd been in the same room and possibly exposed as well. Suddenly, the Czech thought that maybe it had been nothing after all, and he was too busy…too bad for him Beckett wasn't buying it, and Zelenka sulked all the way to the infirmary.

OoO

Two hours later he was back in his room with orders to nap. John curled up on the bed, but he didn't feel sleepy. Traitor wasn't sleepy either and John reached for his stomach only to sit up and stare at his hand. As he moved it in front of his face he could see cool patterns formed off the red glowy mist that outlined the appendage.

"Hey..." John said, then he smiled goofily.

**THE END...of part 24**


	25. Chapter 25

AN: Hopefully is over it's little trouble, and here's a big update. It's rather long, and hopefully you won't mind wading through to the end! **  
**

**Not the Daddy…part 25**

**Pregnancy clock: 8 months**

Drunk. Sheppard felt definitely drunk. He was still fascinated with the red mist that followed his movements with his hand, but he also felt unsteady, giddy almost, and since he hadn't felt that way since he'd been turned into a bug, he had to wonder just what was in that sphere?

But then again, the mist was really cool.

He heard his door chime, but ignored it, because the moving outlay of red had haloed the furniture, and if he moved, it moved, and practically the entire room moved and on the not so cool side, his stomach lurched.

He barely had time to stumble to the toilet before losing breakfast.

By the time he'd meandered poorly back to his bed, the door was opening, and Rodney stood in the hall, frowning at it like it was an animate object intending to keep him away from John, before noticing that the true object of his ire was weaving back to his bed.

"What's wrong?" he snapped, moving forward quickly. "It's the gas you were exposed to, isn't it? Radek told me about it, why he let you touch things in the lab I still have yet to know, and believe me, he's going to hear about this for a lot longer than -"

Sheppard started grinning.

McKay stopped talking and exasperated asked, "What are you smiling about. This isn't funny. You look positively stoned." The words and the thoughts merged and Rodney's ire dissipated. "Oh my god, the baby – why am I standing here talking to you."

John watched as Rodney tapped his ear – why was McKay tapping his ear? But the fascinating thing was Rodney's mist – it was all very red, pulsing red. Almost bordered on violet. Intense man, Sheppard knew, so if he was red, and Rodney was deeper red, did that mean Rodney had him beat in intensity? What was fair about that –

"Sheppard, are you even listening to me?"

"Sure I am," he snickered. "Rodney, did you know you're purple?"

The look on McKay's face was sheer horror. "This is bad," he said, and it seemed it was more to himself than John, and that wasn't exactly nice…

"I'm right here," scolded John. "It's not bad. In fact, it's really cool."

"Colonel," Rodney said with forced patience, "Carson is on his way. Besides the color issues, what are your other symptoms?"

Symptoms? He was having symptoms? "I'm pregnant," he said stupidly. "That's a pretty big symptom. But where's the baby?" And why was McKay looking at him like that. His pretty deep red was growing pale, and cold.

"I'm fine, Rodney. Stop worrying."

"How do you know I'm worrying?" retorted McKay. "And let me assure you, my worry has ratcheted past simple concern to mortal fear."

Sheppard didn't see what the big issue was. It wasn't like people didn't have babies every day – or maybe that's not why McKay was so worried. He leaned towards Rodney conspiratorially, "I won't tell anyone you're the father," he whispered. "Does that make you feel better?"

McKay took a step back and wrinkled his nose. "I don't think I can tell you how much it doesn't." Rodney spun on his foot, and retrieved a washcloth and a cup of water, before handing it to Sheppard, and guiding him down firmly to the bed.

"Your color paled," John said.

Rodney's mental gears clunked. "What?"

"You asked how I could tell you were worrying – your colors paled. It's depressing. Stop worrying."

Under his breath, Rodney muttered, "I wish I could."

The arrival of Beckett, and a couple of medical techs left neither one more time to talk about fading colors and other things.

Sheppard stared at the men as they entered his room, and he pulled back. Lots of colors, fading in and slithering around the three newcomers. Beckett was dark green, and blue, and it was soothing, like the man, but the med techs...

One had sickly yellows and pale greens that made Sheppard want to tell him he was sorry – why, he didn't know, but he got the impression the man was sick from…something. And then the other one, the bigger med tech, had angry purples, and some black, and he just made Sheppard afraid.

"Go away," called John, pushing himself back into the bed, and pulling a pillow between him and everyone else.

Beckett waved to the techs to get behind, and give John space, then he crept forward slowly, holding his hands up. "It's okay, Lad. Nobody wants to hurt you."

Sheppard pulled the pillow back and looked pointedly at the purple and black haloed man saying, "He does. He's mean."

Rodney cast his eyes towards the man Sheppard was accusing, and then back to John. "Colonel, listen, the gas is affecting you. We want to help -"

As if on cue, the techs moved tentatively towards Sheppard, and the thought of the mean man touching him, sent Sheppard scrambling back farther. "No! No no no no! Go away!" He pulled his knees up farther towards his chest, but he didn't get far, because the baby was in the way – but why wasn't the baby there? How could the baby be there, and not there…

"Rodney?" he pleaded. Things were beginning to fall apart. He couldn't make sense of what he was feeling and seeing.

Carson waved McKay forward. "If Rodney stays with you, would you come with us? We only want to help, I promise."

As soon as they stepped towards him, John screamed.

Rodney and Carson froze.

He was scared. The colors on everyone were overwhelming, and his body was losing the ability to screen out background information. Too much. And inside, inside he could feel his baby kicking – _his baby_ – and when he looked down, he saw nothing. There was no baby. They'd taken Traitor, and were going to take him, now.

But he wasn't going to go easily. Why did they take his baby?

Coming to a decision, he swallowed back the fear, and let the pillow fall, nodding uneasily. "Okay."

They bought it. Carson and Rodney both relaxed, and stepped towards him, and that's when John made his move. He jumped up, arms out wide, and took both men in the neck, felling them like an axe to a sapling, and barreled forward, the sudden violence of his act and unexpected move, causing the med techs to gape, and react too slow to stop him.

Sheppard was out the door, and free, before the alarm had even been raised. Now he just had to hide.

OoO

"He did what?" exploded Elizabeth.

Rodney rubbed his sore throat. "Elizabeth, you weren't there – he…it was as if he was losing his mind. He's scared, and now he's out loose in the city without anyone to help. And I can't believe I was stupid enough to trust him!"

Teyla looked almost casually at Ronon – too casually. "We will find him, Doctor McKay."

"Take your stunner pistol, Ronon," Elizabeth called as the two moved towards the doors.

McKay saw both Teyla and Ronon nod grimly, before leaving. He wanted to be with them. Wanted to be there when they found Sheppard, because he knew the colonel wasn't in his right mind, and god only knows how he'd react to seeing the Athosian and Satedan.

"So, you're saying you think it was the influence of the substance he was exposed to in the lab earlier today?" she reiterated, and this time encompassed both McKay and Beckett in her question. "Why wasn't the substance analyzed before he was released?"

Carson was sitting dejectedly on a bed beside McKay. The hits they'd taken in the throat had been hard, and while he'd protested they were fine, Elizabeth had insisted they get looked at. Rodney had thought it was rather amusing that the CMO was being ordered to seek medical care, a fact he was filing away for later, but anyway, now he was digressing. "There wasn't any way to analyze it. Once Radek and Sheppard were taken to the infirmary, the gas had already broken down, there weren't any traces left in the lab. I looked."

Elizabeth's face blanched. "Zelenka?"

"He's fine – or at least, he's normal, for him. The sphere emitted the gas directly in Sheppard's face. Radek was standing to the side, and as I told you, this gas breaks down incredibly fast. He didn't get exposed enough to cause so much as an improvement in his accent."

McKay's explanation didn't seem to mollify her much, but she nodded wearily, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"And how long can we expect Sheppard to remain in this altered state? And the effect on the baby?"

As much as Rodney knew he was intelligent, and fully capable of answering most questions, this one he didn't know. He could only hypothesize, and he didn't like hypothesizing. He didn't like unknowns.

Beckett answered first. "How long – probably no more than twenty-four hours. The biological processes of the body appear to allow the gas to remain active longer than in the atmosphere, however, the effect on the baby – I've no idea, Elizabeth. We've got Dreya on her way to the infirmary, and here we can at least monitor the baby and hope the wee one shows no signs of distress. If there is some transference, and bloody well I wish I knew more how this bond worked between them, but we might have to take the baby early."

Rodney felt his heart seize. Thirty-two weeks. Safer, but still not entirely safe. "You think so?" he asked Carson, trying to keep breathing.

He had a secret, and he wasn't one to share his secrets. This baby had to make it, and not just because he knew John would blame himself it the kid didn't, but because it meant as much to Rodney as it did to John. Somewhere along the way, the kid had stolen his heart, and he hadn't even known he had it to give.

Carson was watching him too intently, and he shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Are we done? I want to help look for Sheppard."

Elizabeth looked over at Beckett, who nodded. "Aye, but be careful Rodney, he's not thinking straight."

As if he didn't know. Kind of hard to miss when Sheppard hits you in the throat and takes off –

"Really, Carson, because I think I missed it somewhere between getting punched and falling on my ass."

"Rodney," cautioned Elizabeth.

Right. Sheppard. He swung his feet off the bed, and stood, only swaying a little. He'd have a bruise, and when Sheppard was back to himself, he wasn't going to let him forget what he'd done, but for now he'd have to deal with the soreness and find Sheppard. "Going," he replied.

Now he just had to find Ronon and Teyla, because they tended to be good to have around when there were crazy violent people threatening you, and he didn't feel like giving John a second chance to take him out.

OoO

Sheppard ducked into a deserted hall. So far, so good. He'd made it into the lower levels without being seen. His mind was screaming at him. Hide…hide! They're coming for you…but he didn't see anyone coming, and he was lonely. He wanted McKay back. Rodney would know what they'd done to his baby – yet, he still felt Traitor kicking. Why was Traitor kicking if he wasn't there?

He was so tired. He just wanted to stop, and sit.

A door slid open in front of him, and he ducked in, taking it as an invitation. The room was dark, and John issued a quick order to Atlantis to raise the lights, and when she did, the room displayed its starkness. There were lab counters, and containers, and nothing else.

Nobody, and nothing good.

Why was this happening?

John tried to remember, but all he got were confusing images of himself standing in a lab, and holding a ball. But he didn't play baseball, and he couldn't remember why he had it in the first place.

Sighing with fatigue, he backed into a corner at the farthest end of the room away from the door, and slid down till he was sitting. He felt awkward, and wondered at the odd sense of a swollen stomach – but there wasn't any baby there anymore, was there? Traitor kicked, hard, as if trying to tell him that he was still there, but he wasn't. John almost cried. Nothing made sense.

Would someone help him?

But who could he trust? They'd taken away his baby. He couldn't trust anyone.

He gave in to the tiredness, and dropped his chin to his chest. The odd misty colors still jaunted about his body, and he closed his eyes against the constant invasion. He was so tired –

OoO

McKay followed behind Ronon and Teyla, with the LSD out, and patched in to the main sensors for the city.

"You said he was down here?" he barked into the radio. "There's nothing down here! It's deserted."

Radek's thick voice responded irritably. "Rodney, it is on sensors. I read sensors as well as you. Keep straight, go left ten meters. Life sign where no other life signs are, must be Colonel."

"If he's not there, you're scrubbing pipes for a week," threatened Rodney.

"Doctor McKay, should we not focus on finding Colonel Sheppard?" prodded Teyla.

Ronon snorted.

"That's what I am doing!" he snapped crossly. "Just because I have doubts about a certain person's abilities -"

"Rodney!" scolded Elizabeth. "Enough."

When did she get on the comms? McKay shrugged, only a little apologetically, which was lost on Zelenka because they weren't running on video, only audio. "Fine, fine. I just get – anxious, when things are wrong, okay?"

It was who he was. They'd have to deal with it. He'd dealt with it his entire life.

"Were here," rumbled Ronon. He pulled out his stun pistol.

"Hey, hey! No shooting!" Rodney didn't want Sheppard traumatized worse that he already was. "At least, not until he goes for my throat again," he amended. Maybe shooting was good after all.

The door slid open, and the lights displayed an empty room. McKay squinted inward, and cursed Zelenka at the same time. He tapped the comm. "He's not here! I told you -"

"McKay," called Ronon, stopping his tirade. "There." Ronon pointed in the very back corner.

Rodney's eyes froze on a slumped figure. It wasn't moving, and McKay felt his heart skip a beat. Literally. "Oh my god," he breathed.

Before he could think about the stupidity of what he was doing, his feet carried him towards the figure.

"Doctor McKay!" called Teyla, trying to carry her voice to him without going as far back as Sheppard. "Be careful."

He kept going. What if Sheppard wasn't alive? What if the gas had killed him, and he'd crawled into this corner all alone, and died –

– Sheppard heard a noise. Footfalls, and he jolted in fear, throwing his head up. It connected painfully with something – someone, and that someone howled, and fell back.

"My nose! He broke my nose!"

John focused on the purple haze that was Rodney McKay, and frowned at the blood pouring down his face. "Rodney?"

"Yes, Rodney," he mumbled around his hands cupping his face. "What is wrong with you? God, I'm going to be black and blue before you come down from this trip."

Trip? He'd gone on a trip? But that didn't explain where his baby was, and why everyone looked so funny. His senses alerted him to others, and he backed further into the corner. "You brought more. Make them go away, Rodney. I don't want them to take me next. Please, I just want to be alone."

He felt scared, and he didn't know why. It was overwhelming. His skin was crawling with the fear. Can you die from fright? Because, he felt he was going to. And he didn't want to die. But they'd taken Traitor – would they take him next, and where? Why could he still feel Traitor if he was gone?

"McKay," he whispered raggedly. "I don't know what's happening. I know you can make it stop. You always make things stop." He turned his eyes towards the man, and the shades of purple mixed with the blood dripping between his hands made him want to howl more. "Make it stop," he pleaded again.

Ronon leapt forward just as Sheppard collapsed, his head rolling limply to the side, and kept up only by Ronon's muscled arm.

And the lump that settled thickly in McKay's throat had nothing to do with the hit he'd taken earlier.

OoO

Rodney shifted uncomfortably in the unyielding plastic chair, trying unsuccessfully to ease aching muscles. He reached a hand and scratched at his bandaged nose, and regretted it when he hit a spot too hard, and pain spiked through his head.

He wasn't good with pain. Pain was bad, and bad things weren't part of Rodney McKay's perfect world.

Then again, most of what he'd been living since coming to the Pegasus galaxy qualified as Things Not Okay with Rodney McKay.

And the man lying in the bed was no exception. Sheppard was a soldier. A grunt, the macho man type that he'd hated growing up, the kind of person that looked at McKay with dislike and antipathy in school – yet, Sheppard hadn't from the beginning and Rodney didn't think he ever would've, even when John was a kid.

Somehow, he kind of thought, that John was the kid who befriended the outcasts. Or, maybe he was wrong, and Sheppard had matured with age. It wasn't like he had the cornerstone on an ability to understand people.

Why had he gotten so wrapped up with a soldier? Where had it started?

He'd been dismayed, and a little jealous, when John made the chair sing like he was born to it. It'd been annoying enough to have to prod others into trying to coax the Ancient tech, but to have some stranger waltz in, and ask innocently, 'Did I do that?' when what he'd done was nothing short of amazing.

Why did Sheppard have to be so…Sheppard.

Rodney couldn't even figure out when they'd become friends. He'd snapped at the soldier like he'd done to everyone else. Treated him with the same scathing scorn that he treated everyone else with, and then Sheppard had rocked his world by not getting mad. He returned it back, and with vigor. Soon, McKay went out of his way to poke John. And John poked him right back.

Then it became a game. To see who could best the other with comebacks. And then the game had changed to something else – friendship, respect. Of all the people on Atlantis, there was only one who really got him, and one who trusted him at a level like no one else. Nobody in his life had ever believed in him like Sheppard.

And Rodney believed in John the same way. If they were in over their heads, Sheppard would get 'em out alive. He knew that Sheppard would die trying to save their lives. So far, they'd made it. And when John had actually almost died to save the city, and give them time, he'd realized just how much he would've missed the one person he could call friend. And that had sucked, royally, and he'd spent the next week pissed off because Rodney McKay wasn't the friend type. He was a loner, and caring about other people was dangerous. Emotional investment. It'd been a while since he'd let it happen.

He sighed. He should be in his lab, working, but again he wasn't. Again he was sitting with Sheppard, and getting farther behind. There were going to be a lot of sleepless nights after this baby was born.

And on that thought, a huge grin broke out, because it was perfect! He could cart the kid to the lab when he was being honery and wouldn't sleep. If he had to be up anyway, he could let Dreya get some rest and spend some quality time with the kid. He'd have to remember to bring it up with her –

"Rodney?"

McKay almost fell out of his chair. He'd been so wrapped in his thoughts, he hadn't seen Sheppard wake up.

"You're awake," he said surprised. Brilliant, Rodney, great powers of observation, and he'd just bitched at Sheppard not long ago for the same thing. Lucky for him, Sheppard probably wasn't in any shape to remember.

"Am I really here?" asked John.

McKay didn't like that. He narrowed his eyes at the man on the bed. He was small, and fragile looking under the blankets, and with lines going underneath, taking care of his bodily functions and things. Beckett had explained why there were so many wires, but Rodney had tuned him out about halfway into it. It didn't matter anyway. All he'd needed to know was that it was keeping Sheppard running.

"You're here, or I'm in trouble. Last I checked I wasn't a figment of anyone's imagination."

Apparently that amused Sheppard, because he chuckled hoarsely, which prompted McKay to get a glass of water, and bend the straw towards John's mouth.

After Sheppard had taken a drink, he lay back tiredly. "As if I'd dream you up," he said with a grimace.

Sheppard was already closing his eyes again, and McKay decided to let the comment go. John needed sleep, more than he needed the bantering. There was always time later. And as Sheppard drifted off again, McKay settled back into the chair, wishing his aching back would stop bitching at him.

OoO

When John next woke, it was to Traitor kicking him. But hadn't they taken Traitor? Confused, he opened his eyes, and looked down at his belly. It was as flat as ever, but his mind was telling him it was huge and swollen, as before. What had happened?

"Hello, John," Dreya greeted warmly.

Sheppard jerked in surprise. He hadn't known she was there. When he rolled his head towards her, he noticed her large very pregnant belly, and looked down at his own. It was hers, or it should be, and he squinted against the conflicting thoughts.

His mind was firing like a faulty spark plug. His memory was sparking in places and leaving gaps, but slowly, the priming of being awake started smoothing over the misfires, and memories started to fill in.

"The baby?" he asked after a while. "It wasn't hurt by the substance?"

Dreya reached for his arm, clasping a warm hand over his skin. He thought back to what Teyla had said, and almost wanted to pull away.

"The baby's fine, John. You were the only one, again, who had a hard time. How are you feeling?"

"Slightly – confused," he said. "It's a little blurry."

Blurry was probably the best explanation. In fact, it was a lot blurry – all the images in his mind were vivid colors but nothing was clear. It's like when you take a picture, and hit the button before focusing the lens. That was a pretty good idea of what all his memories looked like after he'd gone to his quarters to rest.

"Rodney was very worried, all of your friends were," she said. Then looking at him very intently she added softly, "I was very worried."

Oh, boy. Traitor kicked strongly, as if sensing his turmoil. "Dreya, you're a lovely woman, really, and if I hadn't had the chance to experience everything – well, I'm sure my life wouldn't be as…interesting," he stumbled in his explanation.

He'd worked through his anger, depression, and even violation. He'd come to terms with her actions, and gotten to know her. He'd fallen for the small baby kicking at his insides at any given time, even though the baby wasn't physically there, he'd grown to feel a closeness with the baby that he couldn't explain – and she'd given him that. And he'd love her because of it, but – "I'm not your husband," he finished. "It's not a job I'm willing to take."

She seemed hurt, and on the cusp of literally wilting, and he begged her inside not to, but the strength that had seen her this far, through the loss of her husband, bonding a man so different and resentful, and the emotional roller coaster of those emotions, along with the possible threats to her child because of health complications, and yet she was still standing.

Sheppard saw the chin stiffen, and her eyes didn't tear up anymore than they'd started to. But she did smile, and her lips trembled just a little.

"I understand, but know this, Colonel John Sheppard, you are an amazing man, and though I regret putting you through all this, I don't regret that my impulsive decisions brought you into my life, and my child's – our child's."

He didn't know what to say, and she spared him trying to come up with something. She withdrew her hand, and awkwardly rose from the chair, still smiling warmly, and he thought she truly was lovely, with her dark hair falling in ringlets around her oval face, and rosy cheeks that are part of the glowing pregnancy package – but she wasn't what he was looking for, and it wasn't to be.

At least she was letting them be friends by accepting that which couldn't be changed. He wanted, more and more, to be in this baby's life. If either one had chosen the path of bitterness for the situation life handed them, he wouldn't have been able to.

It was easy to be bitter, and angry – but it took a lot of guts to let those feelings go, and as he'd said before, Sheppard was many things, but he wasn't a coward. He was relieved to see, neither was Dreya.

He watched her go, and thought about a lot of things. Eventually, tiredness reclaimed him into a dreamless sleep.

oOo

"Rodney, he's eight months pregnant, he's going to sleep a lot!"

"He's recovering from an unknown substance, shouldn't you be waking him up every two hours?" McKay retorted.

Sheppard had been sleeping. The key thing there was had. Until the blustering conversation between Beckett and Rodney woke him up.

Letting one eye slide open enough to see, Sheppard saw Rodney standing a couple feet off from his bed, and Beckett across from McKay. Rodney was in typical confrontation mode, and Carson was responding in kind. The thing that had him a little confused, and John was getting a little sick of that state of being, was that Rodney's nose was covered in a thick white bandage, and he sounded nasally. Looked like someone finally couldn't resist the urge to punch him one.

Setting aside his curiosity about McKay's nose, he debated letting them have it out, but he was tired, and Traitor was kicking from the noise.

"Shhhhh, you're waking the baby," he whispered.

The response was immediate, as he'd figured it would be, and he almost chuckled from how panicked McKay's response was. Until Rodney's surprise over Sheppard being awake, and his not-so-much guilt at waking him, allowed his mind to catch up with the words and he gave Sheppard a dirty look.

"Very funny."

John tried to fight against the smile, but it didn't work. "No, seriously. All that arguing isn't good for the baby. She's listening, you know – and Carson knows they hear at this point. So, no arguing. You want to do something productive and play opera for the kid, fine, but no arguing around me. Talk about corrupting the cradle."

Carson was relieved enough to see him awake that he didn't take the bait. "How you're feeling, Colonel? Mind catching up more now?"

Dreya had told on him. He'd thought he'd hid his sluggish memory well. "Mostly, though I have to admit I can't remember McKay's accident with his nose."

"Accident!" McKay blustered, but it came out sounding more like accibent. "The only accident I had was getting close enough to you. You're head can be classified as a lethal weapon!"

Most of Sheppard's memories had come back, but not that one. Still, he figured he'd gotten one up on McKay, and while he was in an altered state and therefore not culpable, so maybe the whole freaky trip was worth it…a little.

Beckett was smiling ruefully at McKay, but he spoke to Sheppard. "The substance affected you like, well, think of a bad trip on a hallucinogenic drug. It caused visual hallucinations, paranoia, confusion – but fortunately, short lived. By the time your team found you, it was almost dissipated in your blood stream. The good news, the baby is fine – the bad news, you'll be my guest for another day at least."

As if he wasn't getting used to being stuck here. John shrugged and said, "Just remember, when this is over, I don't ever want to see this room again."

Wisely, Carson refrained from mentioning that he'd still rack up frequent patient miles due to off-world missions.

"I want you to rest, and any unusual symptoms, let me know." Beckett looked to McKay, "Don't stay long."

Carson left them alone, heading off to deal with other patients. Even as he left, Sheppard heard his soft brogue talking to a scientist who had inadvertently touched a plant on another world, and had a bad reaction. He looked like a teenage kid with severe acne. Mentally shuddering, John turned his attention back to McKay.

Apparently Rodney didn't lose track of the earlier statement about corruption, McKay, and babies, because the first thing out of his mouth was, "If anyone is corrupting the kid, it's you. I'm a good influence, you – you're fast cars, and alien women. Loose morals and -"

Funny how quickly life reverts back to normal. "While your method of rudeness, and running all over other people is preferable," said John feigning agreement.

"Exactly."

The smug look was in place, thought it was kind of spoiled by the gauze plastered on his nose, and John wondered again where he'd gone wrong.

Sheppard started to push himself up, struggling with the weight of a large pregnant belly, "Rodney," he grunted, "a little help."

McKay switched from smug to overbearing in zero to ten, helping him up, adjusting the bed, John's pillows, and would he like some more water until finally "Enough!" Sheppard shouted, pushing away at the water. "I'm pregnant, not dying, damn it."

"The way you carry on, it's easy to mistake the two!"

Rodney's unexpected outburst stopped them both. McKay had been a picture of unfettered calm in the face of Sheppard's antagonism, and fury, for almost the span of his psuedo-pregnancy, and for him to snap now kind of acted like a slap in the face for John.

A light slap.

"As opposed to you. Sliver to retrovirus, remember?"

McKay's face was unruffled again. Back to that easy going 'you're not going to piss me off' look.

"You sure you don't need any water? Some Jell-O? Or maybe some Milk of Magnesia, for all those," Rodney waved a hand, "plumbing issues."

Sheppard realized that McKay really did bring new meaning to the word insufferable…

"Why are you doing this to me, Rodney? Is it some payment for a sin in another life? What?"

Rodney had settled back in his chair after helping Sheppard get settled, and now he regarded Sheppard with an odd look that John couldn't place.

"You've given me a second chance," McKay blurted after the silence had ticked into awkwardness.

The funny thing was, it was a toss up who was more surprised by his admission. John, or Rodney.

"A second chance?" prodded John. Walk softly through gardens of cultivated hurt – McKay was a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve, but Sheppard also knew that there was a good deal of Rodney McKay that most people would ever see. And he knew that this was part of that McKay, and Rodney was letting him see it. He didn't know whether to be touched, or afraid. He didn't want that trust. But, Sheppard also didn't want to let his friend down, so he gave McKay the opening, and waited, rubbing Traitor soothingly as the baby did a roll across his belly.

"It's funny," started Rodney, pulling his finger to his mouth like he does when he gets nervous, "you spend years running away from something you wish you could go back to. I was almost a Dad – bet you never thought that was possible," he laughed, but it was harsh, abrupt.

Rodney, a father? As much as McKay attracted kids, he ran from them, and with a clarity that surprised him, now John knew why. "What happened?"

McKay's sardonic grin was plastered in place. "My girlfriend wasn't ready for that kind of commitment. She said she wasn't interested in being a mom, that she had her life ahead of her and she was too young to settle down."

When Rodney's voice cracked, John almost cried for him. "She had an abortion," and it was a statement, not a question.

All of a sudden McKay's annoying behavior fell into place. He almost wished he didn't know. For a man like McKay, being in control was important. He panicked when situations fell out of his ability to direct. To have no say in the life or death of his child, it must've taken a chunk out of his soul.

"I'm sorry," he said lamely. "But girlfriend?" Okay, let's face it, he and Rodney, it was love and hate in equal amounts, and neither one did the mushy stuff very well. Everyone had their limits, and lately his had been stretched more than his typical elasticity allowed.

"Yes, I had a girlfriend," McKay scowled. "There are women who find intelligence attractive, besides, there's nothing wrong with me."

"If you like dating a porcupine," snorted John.

McKay sat up straighter, dropping his finger from his lips. "What are you implying? Because I can be a good date."

"You're a cheap date, McKay. I've seen you at movie night, remember?"

"Look who's talking," Rodney snapped defensively. "Anyway, you're stuck with me now. You're having my baby – so deal with it."

And Sheppard had always thought McKay was complicated.

"Tell you what, Rodney. This baby is about as much yours as it is mine, so we'll share if Dreya lets us, how about that?" He figured as much as Rodney had been there for him, Sheppard owed a little back.

Rodney's boyish grin encompassed Sheppard. "I've already developed a schedule. I'll take the hours from midnight to four, because I'm always up in my lab anyway, while you can take the time from nine to midnight, and Dreya can pick up the slack after four -"

"A schedule?" echoed John. "Nine to midnight."

McKay's grin slipped a little. "I thought it was more than fair, generous even – I've got four hours, and you've only got three, but that's because I figure you'll have to cover more duty during the day when were not off on missions -"

"Are we even on the same planet?" spluttered John.

"Colonel, I realize you're recovering from some psychoactive trip to Never Never Land, but it'd be helpful if you'd focus on the important issues at hand, mainly dividing up the baby's care, and did you know that Dreya is breastfeeding? She said she's talked with Carson and will try to pump enough for night feedings so we can share - "

The rest of the conversation faded into nothingness for Sheppard, because the only thing he heard was breastfeeding. Breastfeeding. He pulled the scrub top out and looked down. They looked normal. Didn't look bigger. That was good. Because sympathetic breasts, that'd probably be too much.

Traitor kicked him, hard. "Hey, don't blame me. Looks like the twenty-four hour milk bar is not stopping at the Sheppard station."

McKay stopped talking, and stared at him for a moment. "You sure you didn't suffer brain damage from the gas?"

The only damage was what he was going to do to Rodney. "McKay -" he started to say, but he didn't get to finish, because he felt a tightening beginning down low, and his groin began to feel like baby was being pushed down hard into it.

He found something to grab on to, as the contraction built, and got higher, and seemed to go on forever till it finally began to ease. When it ended he was shaky and sweaty, and staring at McKay. "Get Beckett. Traitor's trying to stage an escape run -" he'd hardly managed to finish before another began, and then Rodney's hand was there and he grabbed on for dear life, because if he didn't, he'd get lost in the pain and never find his way out.

Sheppard was struggling to ride the wave of the contraction, and never even heard Beckett arrive –

TBC


	26. Chapter 26

AN: Nope, it's not the big event yet...we've got a few more things to throw Shep's way, and Traitor needs to bake a bit more.

**NOT THE DADDY...part 26**

**Pregnancy clock: 8 months, 2 weeks**

He was finally, blissfully, pain free. But only after a few days of pain-blurred hell. Days that John did not remember clearly and he was okay with that. He had vague and fragmented memories of Rodney and Weir and Dreya talking to him. Of people holding his hand and telling him everything would be okay. He remembered not caring or believing them at the time because there was nothing but pain. Wave after wave of excruciating pain.

"Colonel?"

He jumped, one hand falling to his stomach when Traitor kicked him, his eyes lifting to see Teyla standing next to his bed. He was finally back in his room. Five days after the contractions from hell were stopped he had convinced Beckett to release him from the infirmary. The glitch being he was back on bed rest, possibly right up until the baby was born. John was feeling a bit too apathetic at this point, and too damn scared at losing Traitor, to be all that upset about it. For now. So he smiled at Teyla, welcoming her presence. "You here to check on me?" John knew that Beckett had it arranged that someone visit him at two hour intervals. With med techs, nurses, or Beckett himself coming in to check him every four hours for vitals and the like.

Teyla nodded. "I am. How are you feeling?"

"Better." John knew that said it all.

"Can I bring you anything?" Teyla asked, as she moved to sit on the side of the bed.

John shook his head. "Can I ask you something?" After his talk with Dreya, even though he felt sure they had reached an understanding, John was still worried about her and their relationship. Even though when she visited with him, she seemed content and happy.

Teyla nodded. "You may ask me anything," she allowed.

"Do you and Dreya talk?" John blurted out.

"Sometimes."

John sighed and stared at his hands lying over his flat stomach. Still too weird to see that when his mind was telling him his belly was huge and swollen. He shook away his meandering thoughts and asked, "Did you say anything about me? Us?"

Teyla looked hesitant, but then she looked at John and nodded. "She did. She was upset at first, but she realizes that she shares something unique and special with you and that your friendship is important to her." It was obvious that Teyla was choosing her words carefully.

Relief surged over John. "Good. I...I really do care about her as more than a friend, but not in _that_ way."

"She knows." Teyla reached out and patted John's hand. "Are you hungry? I can get you some muffins."

"Nah...I'll eat later." John didn't want her to go. "Just keep me company for a while. Unless you're busy."

Teyla grinned. "I have time."

John grinned back. "Great. So...fill me in on all the gossip," he requested. Then he settled back against the pillows as Teyla spoke.

OoO

John was drifting off into sleep when he heard the door open and the sound of heavy footsteps. He recognized those footfalls and opened his eyes to see Rodney leaning over him, looking pissed. "What'd I do?" John mumbled, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Nothing, yet." Rodney thrust a laptop towards him. "There are equations on there. Do them and call me when you're done."

"What?" John wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. He took the laptop though, cursing himself when he remembered he could set it on his lap because there was no belly to get in the way. Then he looked at the equations. Complicated ones. Even as John glanced over them his mind started calculating. But he caught himself and looked up to glare at Rodney. "Why are you giving them to me?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Can you do them or not?" he countered.

John scowled at him. "Probably, but you still didn't answer my question. Don't you have people on your team to do this stuff?"

"I do." Rodney was rocking on his heels, looking smug. "But I stumped them and I have a running bet that you can do them." He shook a finger at John. "So don't let me down. Consider this a test. I'm working on something with Zelenka and we need someone who can figure out these equations and figure them out quick and correctly. So get to work." Rodney was already turning for the door. "Don't forget...call me." With that he was gone.

"Weird," John grumbled, shifting the laptop to press a hand to his belly when Traitor kicked him. "Yes...that was Rodney. How could you tell?" John laughed at himself then sighed and studied the equations again. They were, indeed, complicated, but he had always loved a challenge. And John realized that Rodney was trying to help him with his boredom by occupying his mind. As John went to work on the first equation, he made a mental note to thank Rodney. With chocolate.

OoO

John found himself eyeing the med tech with suspicion. He was a big guy and vaguely familiar to John. With all his time in the infirmary, he realized he must have seen the guy without really paying attention to him. Until now. Something about the man made John's spidey sense all tingly. He just couldn't figure out why. Still...he kept a sharp eye on him as the tech took his vitals. "So...we good?" John asked, as his temp was recorded. BP and pulse and heartsounds were already done.

"Just need a blood sample," med tech guy said, turning around with syringe in hand.

"Beckett didn't mention that," John said, even as he held out his arm. He knew Beckett seldom warned him in advance about procedures of any kind any more. Less chance for John to complain about them. So he watched the guy wrap the tie around his bicep, tap a vein, then slide the needle in. Barely a pinch. John had to give the guy credit, his technique was good. Once a vial was drawn John was staring at the Band-Aid on his arm. "Now are we done?" he asked.

The med guy nodded. "We're done."

John stared at him a moment. "What's your name?"

"Brodie."

"You're kinda new, aren't you?" John queried, because he really couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with this guy.

Brodie shrugged. "Came with the second wave so I've been here for a while." He packed up his things and headed for the door.

John let him go without saying anything else, he was too busy rubbing his belly, trying to get Traitor to chill out. "You can't wait to be born, can you?" John whispered. "Truth be told, I'm pretty anxious for that day myself." He let himself be distracted by thoughts of what the future would bring, until a knock on his door sounded. "Come in!" John called out.

Dreya stepped inside. "Good afternoon, John," she offered in greeting.

"Hi, Dreya...good to see you." John was glad she there. "How are you feeling?" She looked like she was glowing.

"I am well." Dreya was smiling as she moved to sit in the chair next to his bed. "More importantly...how are _you _feeling, John?"

He shrugged. "I'm bored out of my mind and Traitor is kicking up a storm, but that's about it."

Dreya looked pleased. She reached out for John's hand then hesitated.

He grabbed her hand and held on tight. He wanted her to know that things were good between them. That they could still be close and that physical contact was welcome. "So how are things in engineering? Rodney tells me you're still putting in full days. Should you be doing that, by the way?"

"Dr. Beckett said that as long as you are doing well and I don't let myself get too tired, that I may work for as long as I feel up to it," Dreya replied. "I enjoy the work. Atlantis is an amazing place."

"Yes, it is." John would be the first to admit to that. "I'm glad you're here, Dreya." John felt the need for another interlude of honesty between them. Especially after Rodney's confession about _almost _fatherhood. "I never expected to experience anything like this. Hell...I figured I'd never even be a dad. After coming to Atlantis I was pretty sure that would never happen, just because of the way things are and my position here. But you've given me a chance to experience parenthood on both sides of coin and that's an amazing gift to give someone."

Dreya's eyes went wide and they shimmered with unshed tears. "You say that even though I forced this upon you?"

John squeezed her hand again. "Hey...we've moved past that, remember? Way past. My whole life has been lived under the belief that you accept that which you can't change. Of course, in my case, I like to believe that you can change things so I usually do try..." Here John broke off to laugh along with Dreya, then he sobered. "But sometimes it's a good thing to learn to accept the inevitable. And...whoa...I'm getting way too deep here." John was starting to feel embarrassed.

"I think I know what you're trying to say," Dreya interjected as she pushed her way out of the chair and moved to lean over him. Brushing a kiss against John's cheek she whispered, "You're welcome."

"Cool." John felt the swollen weight of Dreya's belly pressing against him and he pressed his free palm against it, knowing there would be a kick to match the one in his own belly. He locked eyes with Dreya as it happened and it finally sunk in to John what a miracle this truly was.

OoO

John watched as Ronon prowled about his room. The big guy looked tense and John could sense that he wanted to talk to him about something. "What's up?" he finally prompted.

Ronon stopped pacing. "Will this change things?" he blurted out.

"Change things?" John echoed, feeling confused. "What do you mean?"

"The team," Ronon explained. "Will this change the team? Will you still be our leader?"

John frowned at that. "Why wouldn't I be? The moment Dreya has the baby I'll be back out in the field." In fact he was counting the seconds to that day.

Ronon did not look convinced. "Fatherhood is not to be taken lightly."

"Technically...I'm not the father," John felt inclined to point out. But he knew what Ronon was saying. "Look...Dreya is going to stay on Atlantis after the baby is born. That kid will have a lot of parental units watching over it. I'm sure I won't be missed while I'm out _doing my job_."

"But will you be able to accept being away from the child?" Ronon countered.

John was surprised by the question. "Look...I know I'm connected to the baby in a way no man should ever be connected, but that doesn't change who I am, Ronon. Which is the head of the military contingent on Atlantis. Unless you're the one having doubts about me being able to do my job?" And that thought was ruffling John's feathers a bit.

Ronon looked amused. "You do your job well, Sheppard," he stated. "I miss the old days."

"Yeah...so do I." John realized he sounded wistful, then he gasped as Traitor gave him a sharp kick. "Hey...knock it off in there," John admonished, but with a laugh. "Don't take everything so personally." He realized that was pretty good advice overall. Then John realized that Ronon was staring at him and he couldn't quite read the expression on the other man's face. Still, John found himself waving Ronon over. "Want to feel it?" He figured everyone else had copped a feel, so why not Ronon?"

"I...uh..." Ronon looked embarrassed and uncertain.

John rolled his eyes at him. "It doesn't hurt, well...it won't hurt you."

Ronon moved closer.

John pointed to his flat stomach. "Just put your hand on it, I promise not to slug you." He grinned, because they both knew it was an empty threat.

Expelling a nervous breath, Ronon touched John's stomach, then he jumped and nearly yelped when Traitor gave a giant kick.

"Pretty cool, huh?" John commented, trying not to dissolve into giggles at the look on Ronon's face.

"Yeah...pretty cool," Ronon echoed, a look of amazement replacing his surprise. Then he shook himself and said, "I have to go. I'm training some of your men in hand to hand."

John nodded. "Kick their asses good. And when this baby is finally born, I expect you to do the same to me."

Ronon grinned. "Deal," he said, then he was gone.

OoO

John's new routine included having breakfast with Elizabeth. She would bring her daily reports and kept him updated. She also would ask for his input, thus allowing John to feel like he was still able to do his job. At least in some fashion. This morning there wasn't all that much going on other than the fact that John's team was going offworld without him. Which he hated. "When are they due back?" John asked, glancing at his watch.

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at him. "They're due to report in about three hours. Relax, John, it's just a simple in and out."

"Yeah...right," John muttered, pushing his scrambled eggs around his plate.

"You'd better eat that or Carson will give you hell," Elizabeth chided. "You know he's still not happy about your weight."

John sighed, considered taking a bite, then he pushed the plate away. He just wasn't hungry. "It's not fair," He complained. "Why couldn't I have gained at least a bit of Dreya's baby weight? Then Beckett would stop bugging me."

Elizabeth chuckled. "That's your own fault for having good metabolism."

"Don't start with me, skinny," John shot back, teasingly. And it felt good to laugh, even though Elizabeth was glaring at him a bit.

"Listen you --" Elizabeth began, only to break off when her radio beeped. "Weir here."

A tech's voice filled the room. "Sorry to bother you, Doctor, but Major' Lorne's team is coming in hot. They've asked for a med team to meet them. It would appear Dr. McKay was injured."

Elizabeth went pale. "I'll be right there."

John was shoving back the covers, knowing he was as pale as Elizabeth was. But she stopped him.

"You're not going anywhere, Colonel and you know it!"

"The hell I'm not!" John glared at her. "They're my team and Rodney was injured. I sure as hell am going to be there!" He tried to shake her off only to grunt as pain flared in his lower abdomen.

Elizabeth crouched down so they were eye level. "You have to focus on the baby first and foremost. Beckett will take care of Rodney and I'll keep you updated."

John knew she was right and let her push him back against the pillows and cover him up again. "Go!" he told her, waving a hand at the door.

Elizabeth left.

John cursed then reached over to grab his radio out of the drawer in the nightstand. He put it on and settled in to wait.

**THE END...of part 26**


	27. Chapter 27

AN: Okay, the big day is coming soon, but not here yet so you can all breathe easier - or can you?

**Not the Daddy…part 27**

**Pregnancy clock: 8 months 3 weeks**

Rodney held on to Ronon heavily, wrapping his arms around the big man's neck in equal parts desperation to not fall, and a way to ease the pain.

"Ow, ow, ow – watch it!" he bitched.

His leg was killing him. Was there some curse that he didn't know about? Go through the gate, and every ten trips gets you three life-threatening or very painful injuries? Because it sure seemed like the odds were stacking up that way.

Ronon was carrying McKay effortlessly, cradling him like a baby. "It's going to hurt, McKay. It's broken."

"I know, but I don't do pain well. Ask Teyla, she'll tell you."

Beckett was running towards them, with a gurney not far behind. Gurney good, because being hefted like a baby was embarrassing. "Put me down," Rodney hissed.

Ronon's mouth twitched, but he moved towards the gurney, and let Rodney drop – a bit roughly, to the bed.

His leg howled at the contact. Oh god, that hurt bad, really really bad. "Cut it off, Carson. Just cut it off. Get rid of it. I don't need anything that can cause that much pain."

"Rodney, if I did that, you'd wind up missing your appendage, trust me," assured Beckett. He waved to the tech to start the gurney down the hall. "We'll get some pain medication in you soon, and you won't feel a thing, promise."

McKay reached for Beckett's arm, "Give me massive doses. I want to be numb. I want it to be so dead you could chain saw through bone and I wouldn't feel a thing." He seemed to realize something else, because his forehead smoothed, and pulled back, "This is going to take forever to heal, isn't it? I'm going to be in a cast when the baby's born. No, no – you've got to do some kind of insta-heal. Damn it! Why did the natives have to insist we ride those stupid beasts? I told you," now McKay was glaring over his shoulder at Lorne, "I don't ride things that I eat."

"Nobody else got bucked off," said Lorne casually. "Maybe it just didn't like you."

Carson sighed. "Major, perhaps you should go debrief Elizabeth. I'll get your exam after. There's nothing bleeding or oozing, or anything else potentially disastrous that I should know about?

Lorne shook his head, and waved jauntily at both Beckett and McKay. "See you later, Docs."

Rodney just groaned. This couldn't be happening. Weeks away from Sheppard's due date – Dreya's due date, and he had a broken leg. It was bad enough that he'd have tons of pain, and a cast, but how was he supposed to be a labor coach if he couldn't even walk without crutches. Damn it!

OoO

John was listening on the ear piece and growing more and more impatient. Nobody was talking, except chatter from the gate techs. All he knew was that the team was back, everyone was accounted for, and McKay was en route to the infirmary.

He tossed it down in disgust, and got ready to go to the infirmary himself, when his door chimed. Finally. Elizabeth was back, or she'd sent someone to tell him what was going on.

He thought it open, and Ronon came striding in, pushing a wheelchair.

"Knew you'd want to go," he said for an explanation.

"Rodney?"

Ronon helped ease Sheppard into the chair, and John settled in awkwardly, because his mind truly thought he had a protruding belly. He moved like a heavily pregnant woman, and it was difficult as hell. Back when the first mind vs. reality conflicts began, he'd thought if he just concentrated hard enough, he could get his brain to realize the signals being interpreted weren't his own. It hadn't taken long to realize the best he could do, was force his hand down to his real skin. But running, walking, bending – his mind just wasn't going to give up the input, regardless of what was really there.

"Broke his leg, complained enough for two, but he'll live."

McKay had broken his leg? Ouch. Not the usual small injury, and the thought of Rodney in a cast for six weeks made John wince. He was going to be a real bear – and then the thought occurred to him that McKay was going to get a little dose of what being laid up really meant, and just how boring it can be.

Of course, then Sheppard felt guilty, because aside from the fact that McKay hovered and drove him crazy, he'd been John's lifeline. He'd been there when he was sick, tired, cranky, confused, depressed – you name it, and he'd been there.

"Drive on, Jeeves," ordered Sheppard lightly. If Rodney could do it for him, then he could do it for Rodney.

Ronon started pushing the chair and asked perplexed, "Jeeves?"

Why did Sheppard have to keep picking up non-Earth people to be on his team? They didn't get any of his jokes –

OoO

When Ronon delivered Sheppard to the infirmary, Beckett had McKay in a corner, an IV already running and they were putting the cast on his leg. Ronon pushed him over to McKay's side, and nodded at the doc.

"Thought I'd save him making the trip on his feet," rumbled the runner.

Carson nodded tightly, but didn't look happy with Sheppard. "You should be in bed, Colonel." As he talked, he looked at the plaster, and then up at the x-ray.

"Doc, he's on my team."

"He'll be fine, clean break, hurt like the devil for the next few days, and he'll be in the cast for about six weeks, but he'll be fine. He's on some heavy pain reliever right now, so there's no reason for you to stick around."

Traitor kicked angrily at his insides. Even the kid didn't want to go. "He's been there for me," Sheppard said stubbornly. "I'm fine in the chair. I won't get up and run laps, promise."

Ronon put the brake on the wheelchair, making a point for Sheppard. "I'll be back to get you in a couple of hours," he said, and lingered for only a moment to give Beckett time to protest. When he didn't, Ronon left.

Carson wasn't happy but he started wrapping another strip on Rodney's leg. "If you've got any pain or contractions, let me know, we want the wee one to stay in for at least another week," he warned Sheppard.

One more week, five at the most, and now Rodney was the one out of action. John was so close to going on missions again, and knowing there'd be another week tacked on made him depressed all over again.

Pushing aside regret he peered at Rodney. McKay was stretched out on the bed, changed into scrubs, and the IV that was delivering his pain medication dripped what seemed to John a little fast into Rodney's hand through the needle. He was a bit pale, but McKay tended to be pale anyway. Maybe a little bit more than normal. He was sleeping from the drugs, but every now and then he'd flinch from the pressure on his leg.

Right now, Rodney was quiet, but Sheppard figured when he woke up, there'd be an earful. He sighed, and hunched in the chair. Sure seemed as if there were a black cloud over them lately. One problem after the next, injuries all over the place. McKay had only managed to get the bandages off his nose a few days ago. If this kept up, he'd talk to Teyla about getting Halling to do some kind of ritual blessing over them, or next thing he'd know (or not know, since he'd be dead) they'd be sent home in a pine box.

At some point, Sheppard began to drift off to sleep. He heard Rodney stirring, and knew that the pain was dragging McKay into the world of wakefulness, but John was too deep into slumber to pull back and stay awake. He tried to tell himself to shake it off, and wake up, but it didn't work. By the time McKay woke fully, it was only to see a snoring Sheppard sitting beside him, slumped in the wheelchair.

OoO

Later, John woke in his bed, back in his quarters, and wondered how the heck he'd gotten back here? He pushed up from the pillow, and cradled a hand against the heavy belly. The wheelchair was pushed against a wall, and a dinner tray was on his desk. It was late, and glancing at the clock told him just how late. Probably everyone that normally visited him was asleep. Ronon had obviously brought him back and tucked him in, a notion that irritated him. John hated being babied.

The dinner tray was probably cold, but he got up and retrieved it anyway. The cake was going to be good, at any rate, and chocolate cake was better than nothing. He ate the cake, and the dinner roll, shoved the cold meat dish to the side, and drank the juice. Now he was bored, and wished he hadn't slept the evening away.

At this hour, no one would be happy to see him, but he was bored and restless. He missed McKay being there to drive him up the wall late at night. Sheppard looked around the room, and his eyes fixed on the laptop. The equations. McKay had asked him to solve the equations, and he almost had them. It was as good as anything else to make the time pass, and maybe it'd make him sleepy enough to go back to bed.

Traitor kicked half-heartedly, and John rubbed the tyke's foot that bulged out. He wondered if Dreya was doing the same thing, or if she was sound asleep like most of the people in the city.

Sheppard pulled the computer over, and turned it on. Equations. Focus on equations…

OoO

"What are you doing?"

John jerked, and his face stuck to something. He could feel the sweat on his cheek. What was going on? His muddled mind tried to catch up as he pulled his head off of something, the something that was generating heat and causing his face to sweat – he'd fallen asleep on the something. He'd pieced that together.

"You drooled on my computer!"

Sheppard's brow wrinkled, and he blinked at the blurry shape, and were those peg legs? Huh? He blinked a few more times, and the shape focused into a belligerent Rodney McKay, on crutches, and staring at the sweat-slicked laptop with disgust.

"I didn't drool," defended John, as he lifted it off his lap, and closed the top. It'd been running all night, and it was generating enough heat on his legs to make those sweat, too.

McKay moved forward with awkward swings of his crutches, till he was close enough to pull the computer towards him. He balanced on one foot, and shifted the crutches out from under his arms, to one hand, and then to the floor, while sitting down on Sheppard's bed.

As he opened the cover, and the programs came up, Rodney rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the irritation slowly changing to delight. "I knew it! You've got it, This is fantastic."

Sheppard was still trying to wake up and figure out why McKay was in his room. And what time was it anyway? He glanced at the clock. If he'd been a cartoon character, his eyes would've bugged out of his head. It was almost noon! He looked down at his tummy and muttered, "It's all your fault."

Scrolling through the mathematics, Rodney shook his head at John. "Can't blame the kid on your avarices."

"It is his fault – her fault. Anyway, why'd Doc let you out so soon?" Sheppard peered at Rodney's casted leg. "How's the leg?"

"Broken, and there wasn't any reason to keep me, and, it's not his fault."

Sheppard pushed himself carefully off the bed, needing to go take care of his full bladder, the one that Traitor was happily kicking against. But on the way to the bathroom he said to McKay, "Kicked you out, didn't he?"

As he splashed water on his face, and came back into the room Rodney nodded. "I don't know why he got so irritated, just because I questioned his ethics in giving that guy with the horrible acne more pain medication than I got -"

"The guy's still there?" asked Sheppard in surprise. "Ouch."

McKay shuddered at the thought. "I didn't even know skin could erupt in that many locations." Rodney seemed to pause, and stared at John. "Why am I talking to you – I came here to yell at you."

John snorted, and walked over to his dresser, pulling out a clean pair of pants and black t-shirt. "Sorry for distracting you from your original idea. By all means, carry on."

"I saw you in the infirmary, what were you thinking! That baby is hanging in by his tiny feet, and you go gallivanting around Atlantis as if he were corked in there."

There were days where Rodney's tirade would've caused Sheppard to get angry. But this wasn't one of those days. McKay was sitting on his bed, albeit reduced to crutches, but alive. Traitor was kicking happily – yeah, he had a thing for Rodney – and baby was almost ready to be evicted. He was pretty happy, and not even McKay's rants could take that away, in fact, it almost made him happier, because a pissed-off McKay was status quo.

He laid out his shirt on the bed, and pulled his old one off, picking up the new and sliding it over his head. "I heard you were hurt, and was worried," and he'd never admit that again, "and the baby is just fine. Ronon pushed me in the chair."

Rodney only huffed a little more, still stuck on the equations. "Don't do it again. I was fine – well, not fine, a little broken, but it could've waited. I'm here now, aren't I? And as touched as I am, I'd prefer the baby stay put a while longer."

He'd prefer? Sheppard shook his head. Crazy world. He dropped his pants, and slid on the clean pair, before wadding up his dirty clothes and tossing them into the hamper in the corner.

As he buttoned them, Traitor did a full body roll, and his fingers fumbled. McKay looked at him shrewdly, but didn't comment, his eyes moving back to the screen. Sheppard finished buttoning once the baby quit trying to rearrange his insides.

"By the way, Carson told me that you're off of bed rest, want to get some breakfast?"

Rodney was just now telling him that? Sheppard remembered again that this was almost over, and he forced the smile on his face. "Sure, why don't we. Anything else important to let me know about?" he asked tightly.

Closing the laptop, and holding it out towards Sheppard, Rodney reached down for his crutches once John had taken the computer. "No, that's about it. I'm hungry, let's go."

"You sure?" asked John. "Because I'd hate to get to the messhall and find out that I'd missed an appointment, or briefing, or you know, something _important_. Like my being let off of bed rest!"

"Are you always this cranky in the morning?" Rodney motored himself after Sheppard. "I assumed the bad moods every morning were a symptom of you being pregnant, but if not, we're going to have to work something else out in the mornings. I hate getting up, and having to deal with you will send me over the edge. Especially until I've had some coffee."

Sheppard was walking ahead of McKay, and fought to control himself. That good mood he'd had earlier, and swore he'd keep, because it was almost over – it was disappearing fast. "Rodney, this isn't cranky. Trust me. If you want to see cranky, just hang around when Dreya goes into labor." He imagined, despite the promise of drugs, that was going to make him pretty cranky.

"When you go into labor," corrected McKay, breathing hard from the effort of using the crutches. "You get the symptoms first, remember? And did you know you waddle?"

He had forgotten, and "I don't waddle."

"Yes, you do," insisted a huffing Rodney. "You're doing it now."

John slowed, forcing himself to take careful manly steps forward.

A tsk behind him and Rodney said smugly, "Nope, still waddling."

Sheppard spun on his heels, and yanked Rodney forward, helping him balance as the crutches slid to the side, and growled, "Stop watching my ass."

They finished the remaining feet to the mess hall walking alongside one another, and with Sheppard trying hard not to waddle, but with a mental groan, he knew McKay was right. He was waddling. The good mood – it was gone. This was embarrassing.

They went through the serving line, and Sheppard helped McKay with his tray. After getting drinks, and grimacing in disgust but not bothering to protest when Rodney put a big glass of milk on his tray, they found a seat towards the back of the room. The lunch crowd had the room filled and if Sheppard had thought ahead he would've waited till it was less crowded. He felt the eyes of the curious watching his every move.

At least Traitor was sleeping. He'd been pretty quiet since they'd left his quarters. Movement tended to lull the little guy to sleep, and he wondered where Dreya was. It was lunch, she should be showing up soon, unless she'd eaten earlier.

"Is this seat taken?"

Sheppard looked up and saw Kate Heightmeyer standing with her lunch tray.

He frowned, before forcing it down, and gestured for her to have a seat. "Sit," he said.

McKay took a bite of his burger, chewing pleasantly, and Sheppard suddenly thought this was a set-up. Get the pregnant man where he couldn't protest without making a scene.

"What's this about?" he asked warily. "Because I've made it this far without baring my soul." God only knows, he'd bared about everything else over the course of the past six months.

She set her tray down, and pulled the napkin off the tray, putting it on her lap carefully. "Nothing you don't want, Colonel," she assured him, taking a sip of her juice. "We thought you might want to talk about any fears regarding the labor and post partum time."

Fears? How about ignorance. He'd read the book all the way up to the labor and delivery, and post partum period, and stopped dead because in his mind, the second that baby was on his way out, he was done. He knew that the bond extended for a month after, but big deal – the baby would be officially 'out' and his part over.

Of course, that'd been before he'd gotten attached to the little guy, and now he found himself looking forward to the big day for entirely different reasons.

"No fears," he said, and purposefully took a big mouthful of his turkey sandwich.

Rodney snorted in his drink. "That's not how you acted the other day, when it didn't look like Carson was going to get labor stopped."

Sheppard's eyes narrowed dangerously at McKay. "Rodney -" but he stopped, and looked guiltily at Kate. He'd been about to suggest McKay do something unnatural with his crutches and in light of present company, that probably wasn't a smart thing to do.

"Look, there's nothing to talk about. It'll hurt, until Doc drugs me like I've made clear I want, and then afterwards I'll get to see the baby, and we'll do that 'hi, I'm the guy you've been kicking for the past months' and move on. What else is there?"

Kate's smile had nothing to do with anything less than Sheppard's simplistic idea about the end of the bonded road. "Colonel, have you considered how painful the recovery might be? And the hormonal changes that a woman goes through after a baby is born?"

"Oh, no," whispered McKay. "He's not going to get all depressed and emotional again, is he?"

"No, he's not," snapped Sheppard. He stood up, grabbing his tray irritably. "And _he's _going to go talk to Elizabeth, so, if you don't mind, I'll see you later."

He stormed off without giving them a chance to say they did mind.

OoO

He decided against talking to Elizabeth, and instead headed back to his quarters. He was waddling, and now worried about the labor, and post partum period, thanks to Kate, and figured hiding out was probably the better way to go right now. That way he wouldn't get pissed when people stared, and snap some poor sergeant's head off.

The next few days were spent with Sheppard avoiding as many people as possible, yet McKay and Dreya seemed to constantly find him. He'd duck into remote rooms, and go to the messhall later or earlier than most, and still there they'd be, waiting and smiling.

McKay's cast was so covered in signatures that it looked black instead of white, and he pointed out new ones every time John found him. His point being that Sheppard hadn't signed yet.

And he wouldn't. He was still pissed at being set up with Kate and having his little bubble of denial punctured. He'd finally broken down and read the section on labor and delivery, and the weeks immediately after.

The only reason he wasn't a total basket case was because Beckett had promised him drugs. Good drugs. As for the after, he'd have missions to go on, and things to keep him busy, and he couldn't see how that'd allow him to be depressed, hormonal and cranky. If he'd made it through this pregnancy, he figured it couldn't be that hard to get through the final month of this bond. He'd have the baby to play with, too. And that kind of made him smile for the first time since Kate had confronted him.

Speaking of Beckett, he was on the way to talk to the doc about having him and Dreya in a private room. The infirmary was open, and he knew that a lot of personnel were excited for the upcoming birth. Traitor was the first baby born on Atlantis in at least ten thousand years, and that was making people dream up celebration parties and lots of intrusive ideas. The betting pool he knew was huge.

He glanced at his watch, it was 2100 hours, so it should be fairly deserted. He slipped into the back door, hoping to avoid as many people as possible, and glanced around for Beckett. He wasn't out in the main area, so probably in his office.

Walking as stealthily as possible, he saw a light on in Carson's office as he came nearer to the door. Cool. He'd figured Beckett was still around, and his hunch looked good.

It wasn't till he strode into the office, and started to say, "Doc, just the man I needed to see -" that the words died on him, because it wasn't Beckett sitting at the desk. It was the med tech, Brodie, the one that had niggled at his thoughts, and the tech was scrolling through files on Carson's private computer.

"What are you doing?" snapped Sheppard, knowing something wasn't right.

The man was fast, coming around the desk, and ordinarily, it would've been quite the fight, but Sheppard's physical status was a disaster from the pregnancy, and movement was slow and awkward, and despite trying to force his body to respond quickly, it didn't.

The last thing Sheppard was aware of, was a meaty fist coming at his face, and knowing he wasn't ducking fast enough –

TBC


	28. Chapter 28

AN: Someone did guess correctly about Brodie, but not going to say who! Anyway, he's going to be part of an ongoing plot so will stop now and not give too much away.**  
**

**NOT THE DADDY...part 28**

**Pregnancy clock 9 months, 1 week**

John's first awareness was pain. It hurt to breathe and he really did not want to open his eyes but he could hear Beckett calling his name and Rodney muttering loudly in the background, so John peeled his eyelids open and winced.

"I'll get the light," Carson said immediately.

A moment later there was soft darkness and John blinked, cursing the pain it caused, and finally brought Beckett and Mckay into fuzzy focus. "Wha happnd?" he mumbled.

Rodney shoved Beckett aside to answer. "You tried playing the hero again! That's what happened! Idiot! What were you thinking? You're 9 months pregnant for God's sake!"

"Not pregnant," John muttered, with as much belligerence as he could muster. Then he shifted his eyes to look at Beckett, who was now shouldering Rodney aside so he could take John's vitals. "What happened?" John repeated, feeling a bit more focused. But his throat was dry. "Water?"

"Here you go." Carson held the glass.

A few sips and John felt much better. "Why does my head hurt?" Actually, he was wondering why everything seemed to hurt. Then panic hit him. "The baby?"

Carson gripped his shoulder, a reassuring squeeze. "The wee one is just fine and you will be too. But you did have a bit of a tussel."

"I did?" John was drawing a blank.

"What do you remember?" Carson prompted.

John closed his eyes and considered. Suddenly the image of the med tech guy filled his head. "Brodie!" John hissed, and instantly regretted it as his temples now throbbed with pain. He rubbed them.

Rodney was back beside him again. "Yes, Brodie!" he snarled. "That bastard hit you!"

"He...he was on your computer," John said to Beckett.

"I know." Carson sighed and sounded unutterably weary. "Ronon found him and took care of him before he could do anymore damage to you or to the files. It seems Ronon has taken to kind of following you around now, and lucky for you."

John wasn't sure how he felt about that, but let it go to address a more pressing issue. "Why was that bastard in your files?"

Carson made a face. "Good question."

"We can only hypothesize since he's dead," Rodney interjected, and he looked forlorn.

"And?" John prompted, locking his eyes on Rodney's face. He looked as pale and worn out as John felt.

Rodney harrumphed then gestured at Beckett to get him a chair. He plunked down into it, setting his crutches aside, then launched into an explanation. "Brodie seems to be connected to the task force that tried to take over Atlantis. If his 'suicide by poison' is anything to go by."

John was stunned. "What? But didn't he come over on the Daedalus from the SGC?"

"He did." Rodney looked disgusted.

"Colonel Caldwell and Dr. Weir have contacted Stargate Command and it's being investigated as we speak."

John felt unsettled. Stuff was happening under their noses that they had no control over and he just had to be pregnant. So to speak. Sometimes he really hated his life. A sentiment that Traitor took offense too, given the kick that rocked John's belly. "Hey!" John hissed at his stomach, even as he pressed a hand there. "Chill out kid."

Carson grinned and pressed his hand against John's stomach as well. "That's a good thing," he said, happily. "And before you ask, you're staying here for a couple of days. You have a concussion and you need to rest."

"I can rest in my room. The bed's more comfortable." John made puppy dog eyes at Beckett and he could see the moment they worked and the doc caved.

"All right...I'll release you tonight. If...and it's a big if...if you rest now and do as you're told." Carson looked disgusted at himself for being so weak.

John grinned, carefully, because it really did hurt to breathe right now. "I'll be good," he promised, then he let his eyes droop. He really was tired. He felt a pinch in his shoulder and opened his eyes again.

Carson patted his arm. "Just a little something to help the pain. I can't give you anything to make you sleep just yet."

"Tired anyway," John mumbled, as he drifted back into darkness.

OoO

True to Beckett's word, John was released to his room that night. Ronon wheeled him there with Rodney clunking along beside him. John had a bone to pick with Ronon. "You're following me?" he blurted out, figuring it was best to be direct with the big guy. He wanted to turn his head to look at him, but any movement at all cause pain so John settled for waiting for a reply.

There was no hesitation on Ronon's part. "Yes."

"Why?" John really needed to know.

"You need watching." Ronon was the King of succinct.

John was pretty sure he should be offended, but to do so would take up way more energy than he had at the moment. So he settled for giving an order, that he was pretty sure was going to be ignored anyway. "Stop it."

Ronon snorted and continued pushing. When they reached John's room he was right there to help John into bed. He even fussed with the covers a bit.

It was a testimony to how wiped out John felt that he let him do his fussing without comment. Then Ronon was gone, leaving the chair behind, and Rodney was settling in the ever present chair next to his bed. "Shouldn't you go do lab stuff?" John asked. He wanted to be alone to suffer in peace. His head was still throbbing. A manageable ache, but still annoying.

"No, it's late." Rodney seemed to feel that answer would suffice.

"So?" John, carefully, turned his head on the pillow. "Time is irrelevant with you."

Rodney considered that and nodded. "True, but I'd rather sit here and keep an eye on you. You seem to attract trouble and I don't want anything happening to the baby. We're so close now."

John sighed, he was feeling very much put upon at the moment. "Dreya is the pregnant one," he reminded Rodney. "Go fuss over her."

"Later." Rodney shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable. "So...want me to read to you?"

"No." John wanted silence. "I'm tired...just want to sleep."

Rodney blinked then nodded. "Okay. Sleep then." And, surprisingly enough, he fell silent and let John drift away.

OoO

Pain. Ripping, burning, tearing pain. John sucked in a breath to scream but swallowed it, and boy didn't that make his head throb. He fought a wave of nausea and tried to call out to Rodney, but Rodney was already there. John felt a hand squeezing his hand and when he peeled his eyes open he saw Rodney's terrified visage.

"Oh god, oh god! It's time, isn't it?" Rodney was babbling. He tapped his radio hitting the open channel and announced to all of Atlantis, "The baby is coming! Help!"

"Fuck!" John hissed, as another pain ripped through him. He clenched his entire body, trying to ride out the wave. Then he realized he needed to breathe but doing that made him feel nauseous. Stupid concussion. Then the door to his room whooshed open and Ronon was there. John thought he should be pissed about being manhandled by the big guy, but it was easier to let Ronon pick him up and put him in the wheel chair. Then they were in the corridor and the walls went whooshing by in a blur. "Dreya!" John managed to gasp out.

"Teyla went for her," Ronon replied. He sounded grim and looked slightly panicked.

Rodney was trying to clump along at their side and, amazingly, was managing to keep up. More or less. He kept an ongoing monologue of, "Breathe with me. In...out...in...out. Come on, Sheppard! Breathe, dammit!" Turning totally bitchy when John ignored him.

John was too busy trying to remain in the wheelchair while being bent nearly in half. Awkward to do when you weren't really pregnant yet your _not_ swollen belly insisted on getting in the way. Then the infirmary doors were ahead and John felt like sobbing with relief. He heard Beckett's voice then the doc was kneeling beside him.

"How are you feeling, laddie?" Carson asked, as he reached for John's wrist.

"...been better..." John managed to grit out. "Want drugs...now!" He didn't see the look exchanged by Beckett and McKay. If he had, he would have known his day was about to get much worse.

**THE END...of part 28**

AN:I can hear the shouts - yep, it's time! Get out your scrubs and booties, and meet me back in the labor and delivery room! And just a little warning (and I apologize profusely and am ducking even now from the rotten fruit), it might be a day or so because I've got some real life things like my husband's birthday and well, he kind of wants me to be there and do that family thing (smile) so, hang in there and it won't be terribly long till part 29 arrives with a special delivery!**  
**


	29. Chapter 29

AN: waves to you all. Hubby says thanks for the birthday wishes, and here's what you've been waiting patiently for. I hope it doesn't dissappoint!**  
**

**Not the Daddy…part 29**

**Pregnancy clock: The Big Event**

"Get him on the bed," Beckett ordered, standing back.

Sheppard let himself be helped, and prayed for fast acting drugs – super drugs, even, because this was the part he didn't want to know about, and wouldn't even mind Beckett putting him under for the duration.

Alicia, the nurse that seemed to have taken him on as her personal mission, began to strap the belts around his waist. Convenient he was already in scrubs. He hadn't had a chance to change and shower like he'd wanted to.

John flinched when the cold jelly from the heart monitor touched his flat stomach.

Rodney mistook it for something else. "Another one starting?" He glanced at his watch – "That's soon, way too soon."

"No," grunted Sheppard. "The gel is cold."

McKay's face wrenched into comical disbelief. "You're about to have a baby, and you're flinching at cold gel?"

"If you want to trade places, I won't stop you," muttered Sheppard. He sought out Beckett's concerned face and said, "You promised drugs, Doc. Good drugs. Now would be good. In fact, before the next one hits."

Alicia finished adjusting the belts, and the steady rhythmic beat of Traitor's heart filled the room. She adjusted the volume to where it could be heard, but not overwhelm conversation. She then pulled a tray over with an IV kit, and tugged gently on Sheppard's right arm. "This will only take a minute, Colonel."

"And then I get my drugs?"

Beckett was looking really uncomfortable, and suddenly Sheppard had an intense urge to get off the bed, and run from what was about to happen.

"About that," Carson cleared his throat. "You've got a concussion, son. And, I gave you a wee bit of pain medication earlier. I'd like to hold off for now. We won't be able to give you much, and going off a hunch, I'd say you'll need it more towards the end than now, when labor's barely begun."

Barely begun? That contraction he'd just had felt like the end to him.

"You never listened when I tried to get you to practice your breathing techniques," McKay reminded Sheppard. "But, fortunately for you, I did do my homework as labor coach, and as long as you listen – you can follow basic directions, because I've seen it – this shouldn't be too hard."

Rodney was lucky, because Teyla arrived with Dreya in tow, and distracted him from wrapping his hands around McKay's neck.

Dreya didn't seem to be uncomfortable, or scared out of her mind, like John was sure he looked like – because he was.

She greeted Carson warmly, and allowed Alicia to take her off to get changed, but before she went, she stopped briefly at his bed and grabbed his hand. "This is it, John. Thank you, for being there – for being here now. I needed you, more than you'll ever know." Her face was so serene, but serious. She put John's hand on her belly, and even as he felt Traitor kick in his own, he felt it under his hand, and she added, "_We_ needed you."

He didn't know what to say, and Dreya must have felt nothing was necessary, because she let Alicia lead her to a private area to change out of her clothes and into a gown.

That was one benefit - they hadn't stuck him in one of those ridiculous open-back gowns. There wasn't any need to be checking on him down there, like they'd have to do with Dreya.

"Get ready," cautioned Rodney softly, seeing the tracing needle begin to rise on the contraction monitor.

John was about to ask why, when he felt the telltale tightening start, and he reached for Rodney's hand, trying to fight back the nervousness. It strengthened, and grew painful, and he tried to focus on McKay, but soon the twisting pain just swept him away, and he prayed it'd end soon.

At some point, the contraction eased, and he now he did focus on McKay. Rodney had paled, and Sheppard called frantically for Beckett or Alicia, or someone!

McKay was going to pass out, and the man was already on crutches, the last thing he'd need would be a matching concussion.

Ronon had been leaning against the wall, observing everything, and jumped forward, catching Rodney in time to keep him from hitting the floor head first. "McKay?" Ronon called, looking at the physicist's slack face. "You okay?"

"He's having a baby," McKay said, thunderstruck. He let Ronon move him into a chair. "Oh my god," a massive grin broke through the numb expression and he looked at John, then Ronon. "We're having a baby!"

Teyla and Beckett came over, following as Alicia helped Dreya into a bed next to Sheppard, and began to hook her to the monitors. Traitor kicked and rolled against the constriction. The dual-bumps sounded on both heart monitors.

"She's having a baby," contradicted Sheppard, pointing a finger at Dreya. "I'm just along for the ride." He wasn't sure he was clarifying for McKay or himself. Because suddenly, the thought of a C-section, seemed mighty good.

Carson looked ready to give him some trite advice about the situation, but he settled for just looking amused. He waited till Alicia had Dreya settled, then said, "All right, then, let's see where your cervix is at, shall we?"

Sheppard hoped it was ten. He knew ten was the magic number. He heard Beckett draw the curtains around Dreya's bed, and listened in to the soft conversation, and he was just turning to ask McKay if he'd recovered his senses when he felt something wet, and cold intrude down below, but there wasn't any 'down below' like that in him, and he almost came off the bed in shock.

He looked around panicked. McKay was frowning at him, Ronon looked puzzled, and Teyla got this big round 'Oh' on her face. Oh, is right. This can't be happening. He looked desperately towards the curtain. "You're done, right Doc – you're done, now!" but it came out strangled, and he doubted Beckett could hear it over the heart monitors thudding, and the conversation he was having with Dreya.

Rodney finally got what it was, and leaned towards him whispering, "You can feel Carson's hands," he coughed awkwardly, "up…there?"

Sheppard retorted, "There is no 'up there', McKay!"

Everyone noticed he didn't deny it. Finally, he felt the fingers withdraw, and he found his muscles relaxing again. When Beckett was done, he was going to get told, in no uncertain terms, that kind of thing was going to be severely limited during Dreya's labor. As in, not ever again. It didn't matter if it was unreasonable. That was a sensation that he never should've been subjected to.

The curtain was pulled back, and Beckett walked out, pulling off a surgical glove and tossing it in a trash can. "She's dilated to four now, so definitely a good sign that this is it," he announced.

Carson took in the horrified look on Sheppard's face, almost matched by Ronon, and the shocked look on Rodney and Teyla, and noticed how high up on the bed Sheppard suddenly was. "You felt that?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Don't do it again," Sheppard said instead of admitting anything.

It was a toss-up who looked more surprised, Carson or Dreya. She was blushing furiously in the bed, and John had to admit, that was probably more of a bond than she'd bargained for.

"Aye, I'm sure you'd rather I didn't, and judging from the lass, same for her, but neither one of you get a choice in the matter."

He wanted to argue, but Beckett had that look on him, and he knew this was a no-win situation. However, the prying eyes could go, and he was acutely aware now of how many eyes there were. Extra medical staff hanging around, finding things to do nearby, Ronon and Teyla – and while he appreciated the support, this was fast growing a little too personal for him. He looked over at Rodney, and McKay's chin jutted out.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said firmly. "I'm your labor coach, and you might as well accept that we're about to know more about you than you'd ever want."

Teyla looked regretfully at Dreya. He knew they were close. Shit. He really didn't want to be an ass about this. John's eyes shifted to Ronon, and just then Elizabeth hurried into the infirmary, searching for him. Her eyes latched on to his, and she smiled, making a straight line to John's bed.

Sheppard came to a decision and looked at everyone, except McKay. "You can stay, for a while – but when Doc does those checks, nobody but my…labor coach," he practically choked on the words, "stays."

"John," Elizabeth said. "How are you feeling, ready for the big day?" She clapped her hands together in excitement, but tried to keep it low key, and failed miserably. "I know how eager you are to be back on the mission schedule."

Oh, she was good, Sheppard thought. Take the focus off of the hell directly ahead, and shift it to the prize just out of reach.

He grunted, and then McKay was taking his hand again, and saying, "Breathe this time, don't try to hold it in. Come on, slow and easy, in and out – Sheppard, nobody is going to laugh at you for breathing, would you just do it!"

John gritted his teeth, and latched on to McKay, to the bed rails, and fought against doing the stupid breathing, but almost on it's own, he took a slow breath in, and let it out, and did it again, and he heard Teyla whispering the same to Dreya.

His world narrowed to the breathing, and the twisting pain. Just when he thought he couldn't go a minute more, it began to ease.

"Another deep breath," instructed McKay. He heard Teyla say the same to Dreya.

Sheppard reluctantly did it, but when he looked up, and saw Elizabeth watching with concern, he wished he hadn't. This wasn't going to be easy. Everyone wanted to be there. And, as much as he'd put them all through, he could give them a little –

"I'm fine," he asserted. "I can do this." So, why were his insides quaking?

Elizabeth accepted his statement. She looked past him to Carson. "How long do you think it will be? And, how is this going to affect his concussion?"

Beckett sighed, folding his arms around his chest. "Concussion won't affect anything, except a headache, though the small amount of pain medication I'm willing to risk should at least help with that. Labor, you're guess is as good as mine. These things can take a while, or they can go quickly. First time mothers tend to have longer labors, twelve to twenty hours, hard to say right now."

Dreya looked apologetically at John. "I'm sorry, but my people are not known for having short labors."

And why didn't that surprise him?

"Did you pack a labor bag?" Beckett asked, and he looked at both Dreya and John.

A labor bag? Sheppard frowned, and looked at McKay, who glared back. "Why are you looking at me?"

"You assigned yourself as my labor coach, you should've thought about that."

"I did," Dreya spoke up to be heard over the two men. "Teyla, did you bring the bag?"

The Athosian nodded, and reached behind the bed where Dreya had been put, and withdrew a canvas tote. "I brought some clothes, and pillows, and things for the baby to wear."

"You might be needing more. Some hard balls to roll against your back, candy to suck on when your mouth goes dry, that sort of thing," said Beckett.

Sheppard started tuning out the conversation. They were all settling in for the long haul, and his mind was screaming no way was he going to be doing this for twenty hours. Heck, even two seemed like one too many right now.

Traitor moved suddenly, and he felt a sharp pressure down below that made him gasp, and then a warm wetness began to spread. If it'd been possible for him to move as quickly as he did just then, he hadn't known, but he jerked so fast up towards the head of the bed, and looking under the blankets, that all eyes turned to him.

Dreya made a soft 'oohh' and Beckett seemed torn between who to turn to, Dreya or Sheppard, but John solved his problem, "Her, go to her!" because his bed wasn't wet, it was just his mind making those stumbling interpretations of the bond. He'd felt the wetness, but it wasn't there.

Unsettled, he allowed Elizabeth to push his shoulder's back down, and Rodney helped raise the bed so he could sit more comfortably.

"Lass, your water broke, that's all, we'll get you cleaned up – this is good, with the water broken, the contractions will be more effective."

Sheppard was listening to Beckett, the nurse, and Teyla as they helped Dreya get changed, and the bed fixed, but he was withdrawing inward, because this was way more connected than he'd thought it'd be. He'd felt Beckett give her an internal, felt the water break – and he wasn't getting the drugs he was promised. Screw the concussion, he wanted numbness, now!

"Doc, you've got to do something. I really, really can't do this," he suddenly said.

Rodney scooted his chair over, and tried to calm him. "Colonel, you're a soldier, you've faced down wraith, you can't tell me that a little thing like having a baby is going to beat you? You can do this."

Sheppard grabbed McKay's jacket and said desperately, "No, no I can't."

But the next contraction took away any doubts that he was going to do it, whether he liked it or not.

The next few hours passed just like that. He'd recover from one, and look over to see that Dreya was handling it better than he was, and manage to get a hold of himself, only for another to start. Somewhere along the way, Elizabeth had murmured something about having to get some work done, but that she'd be back, and Ronon had left to do a scheduled training session with some of John's men.

That left Beckett, Alicia, Rodney, and Teyla. Teyla and Alicia were helping Dreya, while Beckett and Rodney focused on him.

"This has got to be almost over?" he pleaded.

McKay snorted, "It's only been a few hours."

Carson looked at his watch. "It's about lunch time." He got up from where he'd been sitting beside Sheppard and waved at Alicia. "Let's get some vitals, and an internal to see how her cervix is progressing."

John couldn't help the groan that escaped, but Carson put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I'll try to make it quick, Colonel."

Beckett wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm, and took his temperature, noting the numbers and not looking happy at his blood pressure. "It's higher, which is to be expected with the stresses of labor, but we're going to have to monitor this closely."

Carson moved over to Dreya when he was finished, and Sheppard looked cross-eyed at McKay. "I hate this," he hissed. "This is all your fault."

Rodney had been half dozing in the brief lull, and being useless while Carson did that doctor thing, but now he sat up and wondered, "How is this remotely my fault?"

"Because you let me catch her, instead of you. Maybe if it'd been you, she would've sensed your gene, and been happy with it. Then this would be you, and I would be sitting there, and everything would be just fine!" he growled, and it cut-off into a high pitched gurgle, because Carson was sticking his fingers again where they didn't belong, and try as he might, he couldn't keep from scooting up the bed. As if that'd help.

Right as Beckett was messing around with Dreya's insides, and conversely, his insides, a contraction started. He'd thought they'd been bad before, this was a whole new delight. "Get your damn hands out of her!" he shouted.

"I'm trying, bloody hell, do you not think this hurts my arm!" bellowed Carson back through the privacy curtain.

Sheppard didn't care if it hurt his arm. Served him right for sticking it up there anyway. God, and there were people who did this for a living?

Rodney had leaned forward again, and was trying to soothe him into being human, but that wasn't going to happen. "Just shut up, McKay," he seethed, gritting his teeth. Oh, god, this hurt. He closed his eyes, and tried to wrap his hands around the source of the pain, but as it wasn't even there, he wound up just groaning through it.

It seemed like an eternity, but it was only about seventy seconds, according to Rodney, but Beckett was back, and he was trying to ease Sheppard's pain by talking quietly, and joining with Rodney in a mantra to hang on, breathe, and it was almost over now.

As soon as Sheppard could breathe again, he looked over and noticed Dreya looked even a little pale from that one. He was getting the brunt of it, from the bond, and taking most of the pain, but even the left-overs from that had rocked her.

"I'm so sorry, John," she whispered, getting a taste at how bad the pain was for him. "I don't want you to hurt like this."

"You can pay me back later," he promised. It wasn't her fault that an infiltrator had given him a concussion and assured that he couldn't have the blissful option of being drugged to the gills. That guy was lucky he killed himself, because the way Sheppard was feeling right now, he'd gladly do it again for him.

Easing John's shoulders back against the pillow, McKay looked across to Carson. "Please tell me she's almost fully dilated, because I don't think my hand can take much more of this."

The quick negative shake from Carson made John want to weep. "Not there, yet?" he asked weakly.

"She's at a five, which means, it's moving slow. How do you feel about going for a walk, Colonel?"

Walking? "Doc, I don't have a cervix to dilate, what good would walking do?" he asked, thoroughly exasperated with the whole thing.

"Son, I know this isn't a picnic for you, but from all we can tell, what you do, affects her pregnancy. You had the labor pains start first every time. We treated you with medication and bed rest, and it kept the baby nice and happy in her belly. I know this is crazy, believe me, I know – but that's the way it is. Now, you can stay in that bed, and keep insisting it won't help, and this can drag on for another ten or twenty hours, or you can get up and move, and try to get this labor progressing!"

Dreya was already throwing back the blankets. "I shall walk with you, John," she vowed.

Carson was two steps to her, and then tossing her blankets back in place and saying, "You will do none of the sort, Lass. Your water's broke, and the baby is still high. The cord could prolapse and potentially be fatal for the baby. Stay put!"

She settled back, intimidated, but cast a longing look Sheppard's way.

"It's okay," he assured her. Traitor had made it this far, he didn't want to do anything to risk the baby's life. "I'll walk – willingly," he added. "But Rodney's going to have to come with me."

McKay looked at his crutches in dismay. He sighed, and picked them up. "How long?" he asked Carson, resigned to the task ahead.

"Two hours, then come back for a check." The doctor smiled slightly. "I doubt the colonel wants to be walking when I check Dreya's cervix."

Sheppard's forehead smoothed back in agreement. "No, the colonel does not want to be walking when you stick those fingers -"

"Ah, we'll, just be going now," said Rodney, pulling Sheppard while balancing on his crutches. As they made slow progress to the door, Sheppard moving awkwardly due to the pregnancy and dragging the IV pole, and McKay with his crutches, Rodney whispered under his breath, "You might want to consider being more tactful to the man who will be delivering the baby."

"Tactful?" whispered Sheppard back, as they cleared the doors. "He's enjoying this, I know it!"

Rodney chuckled. "Please, Sheppard, we are all enjoying this – well, most of it. I will admit seeing you in that much pain is beginning to cause an ulcer. I can feel the stomach acid building inside."

"Great. Join the club," he muttered back fiercely, before his feet slowed, and he felt a crushing pain down below. Damn it, that HURT. It felt like Traitor's head was being slammed against his prostate, because that was all that was down there for his mind to synthesize with. He couldn't hold back the moan, and he collapsed against the wall, bending slightly with the contraction. "I can't believe women do this willingly," he gasped.

Rodney got behind John, and let his crutches lean against the same wall, and started to rub the middle of John's back. "Does that help?" He was balanced precariously with his casted leg bent at the knee, and his shoulder touching the wall enough to keep him from falling over.

Sheppard tried to breathe through it, and nodded. "A little," he grunted. It took all he had to keeping from saying 'not enough'.

Once it was over, John straightened, and reached around to hand McKay his crutches. "How much longer?" he asked crossly.

"About 115 minutes," McKay answered equally cross. "We just cleared the infirmary doors."

Knowing that Rodney's leg was probably starting to hurt, Sheppard felt a small amount of sympathy, but then the thought of how long the remaining 115 minutes were going to be intruded, and he wished that he could fast forward time. He also lost the sympathetic edge.

The next one hundred and fourteen minutes did pass incredibly slow, and full of a lot of pain, for both Sheppard and McKay. By the time they made their way through the infirmary doors, all John wanted to do was drop in the bed, curl up, and pass out till this was over. Walking had made the contractions harder, all right, so hard he looked down every now and then to check that there really wasn't a baby coming out. His groin ached, and he didn't care what anyone said, he wasn't going to talk about it.

McKay was limping behind, the crutches having caused sore spots under Rodney's arms, and he knew McKay's leg was aching from hanging in the air so long. Sheppard had guilt, and in his position, he shouldn't have to feel guilt along with everything else. And his head hurt like a bitch.

In fact, the pain medication Beckett had talked about having 'a little later', he wanted it now. As in yesterday. Two days before yesterday.

"I see you made it back in one piece," greeted Beckett pleasantly.

Teyla was sitting next to him, and they were by Dreya's side. "Colonel," Teyla said, bobbing her head.

Dreya's face was flushed, and she looked like the past two hours hadn't been all walks in the park and giggles for her, either. "John," she said tiredly. "It has been a long two hours. Are you holding up well?"

His instinct was to snap 'no', he was not holding up well, and would someone shoot him now – but he saw the worried look, and sighed. "I'm holding."

Carson climbed out of his chair, and guided Sheppard back to his bed. "There were some good contractions during your walk, so I think it did some good."

McKay followed clumsily, and tossed the crutches to the floor when he got into his chair. "I want drugs, Carson. I need drugs. I think my leg broke again."

Beckett peered around John's body, and smiled wryly. For once he didn't think McKay was over exaggerating. "I'm sure it does feel like it, but remember, you were the one insisting on being his labor coach."

"That was before I broke my leg," McKay said irritably. "Besides, it's worth it. Just, give me something to make it all numb again, and I'll be good to go. How long has it been anyway, shouldn't the baby be getting ready?"

"It isn't like the wee one has his bags packed and waiting at the door, Rodney," chided Beckett. But, he did wave to Alicia and murmur to her orders for pain reliever, for both men. "It won't do much but take the edge off, Colonel, but it should help your head I imagine."

"How long has it been, Doc?" asked Sheppard. He was finally settled again, monitors on, and the steady thudding of the heart was echoing dually in the room. The bed felt like heaven after his forced march through the halls. At least they hadn't run into anyone except for a few soldiers who knew better than to stop and talk to him.

"It's been about six hours since active labor kicked in." Carson headed towards Dreya but cast a warning over his shoulder, "Internal check, Colonel, then we'll take vitals."

Sheppard closed his eyes. And instead of dreading the invasive feel, he prayed that Dreya had progressed, because as long as her body didn't cooperate, he was stuck. He barely flinched at the cold sensation below, and tried not to yelp at the poking that wasn't even possible in his body.

Beckett shouted, "Seven centimeters, Colonel, well done!" Then quieter to Dreya, "It's coming along, Lass, not much more now."

He felt like crying in relief. Progress. Hard-earned progress, but there all the same.

Elated, he took the pain relief, and didn't even complain when Carson took his blood pressure twice, and made him lay on his left side. "It's higher than before, Colonel – this should help. Next step is to start the mag drip, again, but this time it'll be for your pressure. And, I'm afraid we need to start a catheter. I'm worried you're developing a condition called pre-eclampsia. We need to monitor your urine output, and make sure you aren't spilling proteins."

"Doc," he caved and whined. He'd kept from complaining earlier, but this was too much. "You can't be serious?"

"Aye, I'm serious."

Dreya's face reflected sorrow, and the pain that they were both enduring now, and Sheppard suddenly wished they were laboring in two different rooms, so he could rant and bitch all he needed to, without worrying about her feelings.

"Dreya, it's okay. I don't resent you, really. I just – need to complain sometimes."

She looked like she wanted to believe him but, "When I bonded you, we'd never had a bond like this that I knew of. I did know the stronger the code, the easier the pregnancy is for the woman, but I didn't know why. John, I'm so sorry, I didn't know that you'd take so much on so that I could avoid these miseries."

Rodney was nodding off, taking a brief nap, and Sheppard knew he only had a moment or so before another contraction interrupted them. He needed to get Dreya to accept this was a partnership now. "I know I didn't want this in the beginning. I know I was angry, resentful, and frankly, if someone had given me an out back then, I would've taken it," he paused, and made sure she was looking at him. "But I wouldn't now – as much as this hurts, and I'm whining and I'm gonna keep whining, I'll tell you that right now, I wouldn't back out. I want this. It took a while, but I care, and I'm glad to be a part of your life and Traitor's – the baby," he said passionately, and he could tell that finally he'd gotten through to her.

"You won't hate me?" she asked with a hint of a smile.

"I won't hate you," he said, then amended, "Well, I might be slightly…disgruntled…in about," he looked at the contraction strip, "five seconds." And he already felt the muscles getting ready for a kick in the pants.

Teyla got ready to help Dreya cope, and Sheppard reached over for McKay's hand, startling Rodney out of his stupor. "Another one?" Rodney mumbled, trying to sit up without falling down.

After he'd managed to make it through the contraction, Alicia drew the privacy curtain, and quickly administered the catheter, and got him back on his left side. Sheppard kept rubbing where he could feel Traitor's body, and thinking it was almost over. And he'd never have to do this again. Ever. Because if they wanted to go back to Eradia to visit, meaning Dreya and the baby, they could go with someone else – maybe McKay. Rodney still wanted to get his hands on the tech, they'd made little progress there since McKay had been hovering over him from the time of the bonding onward.

But he wasn't going a thousand light years near the planet. Knowing his luck, the word about his super gene had gotten out, and they'd be on the prowl –

"Aagh!" he shouted.

"Sorry, sorry!" exclaimed McKay. He pulled the wet rag back from Sheppard's head. "I thought the water was warmer."

John hardly had enough energy to care. He settled for scowling, and tried to get more comfortable on his side. It was getting hard. And then another contraction kicked in, and he found himself scrambling for Rodney's hand anyway.

The pain medication Beckett had given him made him sleepy, and in between contractions, he dozed, only waking enough to beg McKay to help him during the worse part, before it eased and he found himself dizzily dozing again.

He knew the lights had been turned down low, and the amount of personnel allowed near drastically reduced, but other wise, it was mostly a blur. McKay would say something, and he'd try to reply, but his words slurred and he drifted back into a doze.

At some point Elizabeth and Ronon came back, and Elizabeth spelled Teyla so she could get some dinner, while Ronon started to offer for McKay, but Rodney shook his head, and gestured at the lightly sleeping colonel, mouthing 'he needs me'.

Ronon jerked his head in acknowledgement, but went with Teyla to bring back a tray for him.

The pain medication wore off in time for Sheppard to feel Beckett giving Dreya another cervical check. He didn't even blink through it. He was beat. The contractions were sapping his energy, and the pain medication had been a great help but made him too loopy to even care about the pain that it didn't quite take care of.

Carson came around the curtain, and tossed his gloves, and he wasn't smiling. Sheppard rolled his head towards Rodney, then back to Beckett. "Doc?" he asked tiredly.

"Eight, eight and a half if I'm being generous," he said gruffly. "I warned you things could go slow."

"How long has it been?" That announcement was more than disappointing. He'd thought she'd be at least a nine. The contractions had sure felt like they were doing more. If he could go walking again –

"Since labor started, over twelve hours." Beckett scrubbed weary hands over his face, settling on his stubble. "And you can't walk, not with your pressure up and a catheter in, so don't ask."

Rodney got up from his chair, holding his leg off the ground, and arched his back, trying to stretch. "What now? That's hardly any progress?" he asked Carson.

"We wait. If she doesn't get to at least a nine in another two hours, then I'll think about intervening."

Sheppard closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, son. Hang in there. Another day, and this will be a memory, and the wee baby will be here and worth the trouble."

A contraction started, and ended the conversation. It took all John had to get through it without begging – well, maybe he did beg, once, for Rodney to shoot him. But anything said during the throes of a contraction were nullified, so he was good.

When it was over, Alicia was back, and started to take his blood pressure.

"Isn't your shift over?" he asked. Though he was kind of glad she'd stayed. Like McKay, she'd been there from the beginning. She was caring, professional, and didn't act like he was possessed or crazy.

She nodded, and said, "Colonel, I wouldn't miss this for the world."

The way she said it, John knew she meant it for the miracle it was, and not a sideshow in a carnival.

He thought about telling her thanks. For being there when he was puking in the beginning, and during the surgery, and after, then of course the slight problems they'd had on Baltar – and the take-over attempt, and the early labor and geez, he'd been here way too much lately.

John didn't get the chance, because another hard contraction started, sooner than he'd expected. They had spaced out to around seven minutes because of the pain medication. Beckett had told him it was normal, and he'd accepted that part with pleasure. Now, they were speeding up, because the medicine had worn off completely.

When the contraction eased, and Rodney was waving his sore hand around trying to get circulation back, Sheppard saw Alicia whispering with Beckett, and both didn't look happy.

"Doc?"

Beckett frowned, and nodded, before moving to his side. "Colonel?"

"You don't look pleased," he pointed out.

"Your pressures higher, and your beginning to spill proteins in your urine."

Beckett didn't need to explain the seriousness to him. He'd read about pre-eclampsia. He knew it could be fatal to the mother – in his case, him, since he was the precursor to the condition in Dreya.

McKay had apparently read up on it as well. "Do a caesarian, Carson. You should've done it hours ago."

"Rodney, a caesarian is major surgery, and not only do I hesitate to place the lass through such an event and the associated risks, have you forgotten that Colonel Sheppard can not be sedated due to his concussion? I do know how to handle medical conditions."

"It's been over fourteen hours! Carson, that's exactly it, he is recovering from a concussion."

Speaking of concussion, the arguing was only making his head pound and Traitor kick up a storm, though they weren't really kicks any longer, they were more like body rolls inside.

He glanced over at Dreya, and saw she was sleeping and Teyla had replaced Elizabeth, and was also napping. He wished he were.

Beckett purposefully ignored Rodney. "Colonel, I'm going to order you a small bit of the magnesium sulfate, just enough hopefully to stabilize things and not make you feel too poorly. If Dreya's not progressed, I'm also going to start pitocin, a drug to give labor a boost, but I've got to warn you, it will make things harder and more painful."

The next contraction began, and Sheppard stopped caring about anything else. By the time it was over, Beckett was ready to give Dreya her internal check, and he could hear the doc waking her up, and updating her on the state of things. A few moments later, doc was digging up inside, and John fought to stay calm.

Then it was over, and Beckett was walking back towards him, shaking his head. "No change, sorry, Colonel. Looks like we're going to have to resort to the pitocin."

The funny thing was, at this point, he didn't care. John had known it could be a long labor. He'd read it, heard Carson warn him, had even tried to prepare himself, but after fourteen hours plus of gut-wrenching contractions, walking, being stuck on the monitors and the latest complication with his blood pressure and the labor stalling, he just didn't care.

He shrugged, and knew it was pathetic. "Just fix it, Doc. Get this baby born."

"Aye, I understand, Lad. We'll get the medications going, and see if that fixes things."

Sheppard thought he'd handled things well, considering, and Rodney didn't have a matching cast on his hand yet, but when Beckett added the pitocin to his IV bag, he lost it.

"What are you doing? That's supposed to be for her!" He'd be damned if he wanted his contractions harder, but then, he hadn't stopped to consider what Beckett meant.

Rodney was roused for him. "Damn straight, Carson – he doesn't need stronger contractions."

John saw Beckett mentally counting, but the doc answered patiently. "The medication you're given affects Dreya. Pitocin can make contractions super contractions, and there is a small risk of a ruptured uterus, if things get out of hand. Using your body as a filter is a perfect solution." Carson tapped the IV port making sure it was running smoothly. "Remember, Colonel. When you had the preterm labor, Dreya barely felt a thing, and the medications we gave you worked. I only had to treat her the one time when it went too long untreated in you. This is the way the bond was meant to work, and the safest thing for the baby."

"Aw, shit," Sheppard finally swore.

Beckett shrugged, but just then another nurse came running over. Sheppard heard something about 'emergency' and 'off-world team', and almost jumped out of bed, but Rodney put a hand on his arm and said, "Labor, Sheppard – the baby's coming out, whether it's good timing or not."

Beckett hurried off, and the first pitocin enhanced contraction kicked in, and when Sheppard said kicked, he meant really kicked. Before had been bad, but these were beyond bad. These were 'oh my god, someone is ripping my insides out and eating them in front of me' bad.

"Rodney!" Sheppard cried out.

McKay latched on to Sheppard's shoulders and got in his face, which wasn't easy considering his leg, but he did, and he instructed him "Breathe, come on, hee hee hee hoo, really fast now, hee hee hee hoo."

And for once, Sheppard did and he didn't care how stupid he sounded.

The next couple of hours literally passed in a pain-induced haze, and just when John thought it couldn't get much worse, he heard Dreya crying out, and Teyla trying to soothe her. Yeah, they were both up to their elbows in trouble, because this was all sorts of bad pain.

Then the queasiness hit. John hardly had time to warn McKay, before he started throwing up. Now he understood why Beckett had refused to let him eat. He threw up more than he thought his body could hold, and just when he thought he was good, another contraction started.

Alicia was there, and Rodney. He could barely hear Dreya going through similar troubles, and wondered where Beckett was.

Apparently he wasn't the only one wondering. Rodney snapped at the nurse, "Get Carson up here, something's wrong!"

John could only whimper in agreement. If this was normal, god save him, because he thought he was on the verge of dying.

A loud page sounded, and John heard Alicia calling Beckett back to the infirmary, STAT. He prayed doc was fast.

How long it took for Beckett to get back, John didn't know, because everything narrowed down to Rodney's face in his own, telling him to breathe, and yelling at him when he stopped and begged McKay that he couldn't do it anymore, and would he just punch him, and knock him back out? Hell, he already had a concussion!

Then Carson was there, and quickly moving in, asking Sheppard how he felt.

And that's when Sheppard grunted, and Carson started shouting, "Don't push!"

Who the fuck was pushing? Because Sheppard sure as heck wasn't. "I'm not pushing!" he shouted back.

"Yes, you were, I've been a doctor long enough to recognize that sound, now stop." Beckett turned to Rodney, "Don't let him push, if her cervix isn't dilated, it can cause the tissue to swell and make it all the harder and longer in the end."

Rodney looked wide-eyed at Sheppard and said, "I didn't even know he COULD push!"

Sheppard glared right back at McKay and said helplessly, "I'm not pushing."

Then, with no warning, so doc must really be worried, Sheppard felt the sensations of an internal and Carson was shouting through the curtain, "She's almost fully dilated."

Beckett came out of the curtain, and yanked it back, and suddenly it seemed like there were a lot of medical staff appearing out of the woodworks. Most of it, thankfully, converged on Dreya, and John, panting desperately through another contraction, watched as they got her legs up in stirrups and thanked heaven and earth that wasn't necessary for him, and saw Beckett slipping into a surgical scrub gown.

A nurse thrust a gown at Rodney and ordered him to get in it.

Suddenly Beckett was bending down towards him, and he was feeling incredibly overwhelmed and in a lot of pain. "Colonel, the reason you felt so bad was transition. Things are going to get a little rushed now, but this is it, the baby's almost here!"

And then Carson was gone, and Rodney was back, and another contraction hit, hard.

Sheppard panted through the contractions, and they seemed to come farther apart now that Dreya was pushing, and every now and then Sheppard's body tried to do something weird, that maybe closely resembled pushing, but he wasn't –

And time seemed to tick away forever, and all he could hear were Dreya's cries as she pushed with each one, and dropped exhausted after. Finally, Sheppard asked McKay, "Something's wrong, the baby isn't coming."

Rodney looked nervously over at Dreya's bed where Beckett was mumbling encouragement to the woman, and Teyla was trying to soothe her. Then, he looked back at John. "I'm sure it's fine."

"No, no it isn't. I can't feel the baby moving down, Rodney, and as much as I don't want to feel it, I know I should."

But another contraction, and conversation was over. The cycle repeated, over and over again, till finally, Beckett came over. He took John's vitals, and gestured at Dreya. "We're having her rest, how are you feeling?"

Sheppard was feeling like he had a ten-pound bowling ball lodged between his bladder and his prostrate. But seeing how that wasn't going to help anyone knowing that he said, "How long has she pushed for?" He'd lost all track of time, because as she pushed, he could only breathe through the contractions.

"An hour and a half," admitted Beckett. "I'm wondering -" He looked pensively at Sheppard, and suddenly John had the urge to hide under his covers.

"I bet, if you push -"

"No!" protested John, not even letting him finish, because damn if he hadn't seen that coming. "I don't have a baby down below. I can't push." Sheppard turned to Rodney, "Tell him."

McKay looked bemused. "I think he might be on to something…" he said.

"No!" Now Sheppard was panicking, because there was no way he was pushing. He dropped his voice down low and said urgently, "Look, I'm being serious. This isn't a joke, I don't have the equipment to push, and I know the baby's not moving down, but I can't help with this, trust me."

Another contraction began, and Alicia called out, "Doctor, the baby's heartbeat is dropping!"

All eyes, including Sheppard's turned to the monitor, and the little blinking heart slowed and slowed, and the numbers dropped under a hundred. As Sheppard begged for the contraction to end, the numbers slowly began to revive, and ease back into the hundred and fifties.

Turning a grim face back on Sheppard, "Lad, we've got to get this baby out, and if I'm right, you're pushing is the key. You're stronger than the lass, and everything we've seen has shown it starts with you. I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner!"

Oh, god, he didn't want to push, but already more staff were coming his way, and stirrups being prepped. His face fell, and he didn't fight people lifting his legs and moving them in place. "I don't want to push," he said one more time, his forehead wrinkling with worry and doubt.

"The stirrups are just to give you a brace, nothing more," promised Carson, sensing John's fear. "On the next contraction, take a deep breath, count to ten, and push."

"I don't know how to push!" he reiterated, not being soothed.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Sheppard, if you've gone to bathroom, you know how to push."

Now John did moan. "Just shoot me NOW!" he snapped. "I'm a man, we don't push, we don't have babies," he latched on to McKay's jacket, "You said you'd be my labor coach – you push!"

"John, listen to me, I could push till everyone was chased out of the room," Rodney said softly, making Sheppard look at and concentrate on him, "but it's not going to change how this baby has to be born, and that's with your help. I'm not going to leave you now, and I can't do it for you, you've got to push! Just think about going on missions again, and push."

The next contraction started, and Beckett looked over John's knees to make sure Alicia and, Sheppard noticed for the first time that another doctor had joined the crew, were ready with Dreya, and then Carson told him, "Deep breath, hold it!"

Rodney got in front of him, swaying on his poorly balanced foot and counted down, "10, 9, 8, 7…3, 2 and 1, push!"

Everyone around their beds started urging the same thing, and Sheppard pushed, hesitant at first, but harder once he got started, keeping in mind what Rodney had said. The only way to end this and get back on active duty was to get this baby out, and damn it, he was going to get this baby out…

He pushed till his face felt tingly, and then McKay was telling him to relax, and count to ten, and then push. He did it again, and again, then Carson patted his leg, "Relax, that one's over."

"The baby moved!" shouted Alicia jubilantly from Dreya's bed.

"Yes!" crowed McKay. "See, all it needed was a little Sheppard mojo behind him."

Sheppard took another deep breath before looking at McKay and saying, "Rodney, by the time this is over, I'm either going to love you, or hate you."

Before McKay come respond, another contraction was starting, and Beckett was instructing him again to breathe deep, count to ten, and push…Rodney counted down, and he started pushing with all he had. Then his face went all tingly again, and he tried to breathe harder.

Someone was sticking an oxygen mask on his face, and a monitor on his finger. He tried to take it off, but Carson pulled his hand away. "You're hyperventilating, son, it's just to help you get enough air, now again, hold – count to ten…there you go, push!"

As Sheppard bore down he felt a pain begin so awful that he lost track of where he was in his mental count for pushing, and stopped, trying to back away from it. "Something hurts," he panicked.

The other doctor shouted to Carson, "The baby's moved into the birth canal!"

Beckett shoved Rodney over, and McKay almost fell. But Carson was holding Sheppard's face, "It's going to hurt, but this is it. You've got to keep pushing. I can't make the pain go away, only you can do that, push, Colonel. Get this baby born, you can do it!"

John shook his head, wishing he could crawl away from the horrible pain down below. It was where his groin was, but he didn't have any hole down there, and the thought that maybe it'd feel like his insides were being ripped open to make a hole caused him to practically pass out. "I can't," he shouted louder.

Rodney was breathing hard, and grabbed on to Sheppard's hand. "Push! It won't stop now until the baby is born, just push, damn it!"

He felt his legs being lifted out of the stirrups and pushed back towards his shoulders, and Beckett urging him to push.

John felt trapped, and he tried one more time to find a way out of this, but Rodney stared at him, and nodded, chin up, conveying to him that this was it, time to dig in, and do it. He pushed, harder than he thought he could, and kept pushing –

"Stop!" Beckett ordered kindly. "Just a moment, pant through it, Lad."

Sheppard could barely do it, but he managed, then finally, blessedly, Beckett urged him again, "Okay, son, push and look over, the baby's almost all the way out."

John gave it all he had, and at the same time, tried to look. The baby's head was out, and being supported by the doctor helping Dreya. Teyla was soothing the Eradian woman, and then Sheppard and Dreya pushed one final time, and he felt the pain dissipate and watched as the baby's legs slipped the last way through, and then they were wrapping the bloody infant in a blanket.

Sheppard wanted to stare forever, but after letting both John and Dreya catch a glimpse, Alicia whisked Traitor away.

Rodney eased Sheppard back against the bed, and the staff that'd been holding his legs, got him resettled.

John took a shaky breath in, and looked to Rodney. "You did good, coach," he croaked. He was so tired, and beat, and – ouch! What the hell was that?

He looked towards his belly in shock, only to see Beckett massaging it roughly. "What?" he snapped. "Come on! The baby's out, I'm done, what are you doing?"

Beckett ignored him, and called over his shoulder, "Is that helping?"

Suddenly both John and Rodney became aware of how tense it was in the room, now that the initial cheering had died down, and John noticed how still Dreya was. "What's wrong with her, Doc?" he asked, his words laced with apprehension even while Beckett's move on his belly caused spikes of pain that just fell short of the active labor pains.

"Hemorrhaging, the afterbirth – placenta to you, part of it's adhered to her uterine wall."

The staff working on Dreya suddenly got a lot happier, and the doctor shouted back to Beckett. "The bleeding's slowing, and -" the doctor poked at the contents in a basin with a gloved finger, "the placenta looks good, think it's all here."

Carson slowed the frenetic massaging of John's belly, and smiled a bit, again. "Thank goodness."

Sheppard bit back a groan, and let his head drop against the pillow. His entire abdomen hurt, and he didn't imagine he'd ever felt this tired before. He heard Elizabeth arrive, and felt her soft touch as she asked McKay, "How is he?"

McKay picked up his crutches, and shuffled a bit to the side to make room before answering. "Tired, sore, but Elizabeth, it was amazing. The bond, it covered everything – and the baby, it was so tiny -"

Somewhere in Rodney's gushing, John Sheppard fell asleep.

OoO

How long John slept, he didn't know, but when he woke, he blinked into the darkness, trying to adjust to the lack of light. He was in clean scrubs, the catheter was gone, but the IV remained. He turned his head to look around, and saw McKay stretched out in a bed nearby, and smiled ruefully.

His hand drifted to his belly, and he felt the emptiness for the first time in so long he'd forgotten what it was like. There weren't any kicks to greet him, and he felt the essence was gone. It was almost…lonely.

It was also surprising, the impact of that, and he had to shake it off, before continuing to get a handle on what was going on. The only lights were the ones behind the beds, illuminating just enough to see.

Dreya was sitting up in her bed, and watching him, a tender smile painted across her face, and in her arms – Sheppard felt his heart skip a beat.

He went to get up, but she shook her head. "Don't," she whispered softly. "Doctor Beckett said until he takes you off the magnesium sulfate for your blood pressure you are not to get out of bed. I will come to you."

"Is it okay? I mean," he gestured at her waist, "Nothings going to fall out, or anything?" he finished lamely.

That explained why he felt a little fuzzy around the edges. He was still on the drugs.

She nodded, amusement shining through. "Yes, I'm fine. Sore, but then again, so are you."

The baby whimpered in the blankets, and she soothed Traitor by rocking the baby gently, sliding off the bed and tip toeing over to Sheppard's bed. She held the baby towards him, and Sheppard brought his arms up, taking Traitor and cradling the baby to his chest.

Dreya bit her lip, and Sheppard saw a trail of a tear snake down her cheek, despite the low lighting. "John Sheppard, meet Lily Beren Sheppard-McKay, your daughter, if you'll have her." Her voice was husky and tight, and he knew the feelings were overwhelming her.

John drank in the little face, and felt as if he'd known her forever. He had her nestled in the crook of his arm, trying to move without yanking his IV line, and tickled a finger under her chin. "So you're the little Traitor that's been raising heck for your mommy and me," he whispered.

His eyes were shiny, and he knew it, and for once, he didn't care. "She's beautiful, Dreya. Your husband would be very -" he paused for a beat, trying to gain control of the emotions rioting through, "-very proud," he finished.

She nodded, but she didn't speak, and John could see her lip trembling, and knew it was too much. Lily poked a fist out of the blanket, and twisted, nestling further into Sheppard's chest.

"She likes you," Dreya said, standing up. "Do you want some time?"

He kinda did. Some time just to get to know this little person that had been – how to describe it? "Can I?" he asked, not looking away from the tiny baby's face.

Dreya nodded. "I'm rather tired, but if you need anything, Rodney said to wake him and he'd help. He's excited over her, despite that he was convinced she was a he."

Still staring at Lily, and lifting her little arm Sheppard chuckled, "He was, wasn't he?"

"Good night, John," she whispered, and leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his head, before repeating another with Lily, and moving back to her bed.

As Sheppard cradled Lily, he heard Dreya's breathing ease into a normal rhythm, and knew she'd drifted off to sleep. He wondered how long he'd been out for? Obviously, a while. Everyone had cleaned up, and most had gone to their own beds, except McKay – never McKay. And John smiled, again.

He stared again at Lily's tufted hair, and barely there eyebrows, and the little squished nose, and tiny lips. She had a double chin, and looked gorgeous. And he'd wanted nothing to do with her in the beginning –

She started squirming, as if sensing his thoughts, and he started humming and rocking her slightly – he slipped into the words, the only song that felt right for the occasion – and quietly, his voice cracking with some of the whispered words, he sang, "I could stay awake just to hear you breathing," he tucked the blanket down from her soft cheek, "watch you smile while you are sleeping…" She grabbed his finger, and latched on with a strength that surprised him, "while you're far away dreaming…" and she stole his heart.

TBC

Welcome to the world Lily Beren Sheppard-McKay!


	30. Chapter 30

AN: Glad to see that the big event was satisfying and worth the not so long wait. As for the name, McKay got to have a piece of the action because he truly was Sheppard's support through out, and he also became close with Dreya, but that was more hinted at than shown because it would've been McKay's POV and this story is almost exclusively Shep's POV with a few exceptions so that was a choice we made not to show that angle...so, hope that explains a bit more why McKay got honors in the name also (and of course our plans for the upcoming parts).So, anyway, another thing, I've read comments about not wanting it to end, and I can honestly say it won't be ending any time soon. We've got a lot of things still to do with this fic that kind of developed as the story did, so, there's still a ways to go (not sure if that's a good thing to everyone but there you go). Really want to thank you guys, not only for giving time to this story, but for reviewing and sending comments, and sticking with it. And, lastly, Lilas - the song choice was a tip for the music vid kindly done for me earlier, and such a perfect fit! It was a vid I played while writing, especially the last part. So, thank you Lilas, again for giving me such an awesome vid!

**NOT THE DADDY...part 30**

**Pregnancy clock: The first weeks after**

Time was still a blur for John in the first days after Lily was born. He had to stay on an IV until his blood pressure leveled out and he felt a bit cranky about it since Dreya was up and about immediately. His body was still unbelievably sore, the worst of it being in places that didn't - technically - exist. Beckett took the edge off with painkillers though, which also helped John deal with his headache. Suffering through labor had not helped his concussion any. But the hours spent holding Lily and being able to feed her, helped John get through it without complaining too much.

The biggest surprise had been Dreya handing him Lily and a bottle of her breast milk. John had read about breastfeeding in the baby book and had assumed that Dreya would do so, and then Rodney had said she was going to try. But, then she had talked to Beckett about bottle feeding Lily as well, since her own people did both, and the first person to give Lily a bottle had been John. He had been touched to the point of tears. Touched and terrified, but now he felt like an old pro handling the baby. He could hold her properly, give her the bottle, burp her and everything. The only thing he hadn't done yet was wash her and change her diaper. He still wasn't allowed out of bed so that would have to wait.

The other thing he hadn't done yet was spend time with Rodney and Lily together. Rodney had a lot of stuff to catch up on. Sleeping for one, eating for another, and mollifying Zelenka in the labs, most importantly of all. "Wish he could be here right now," John whispered to Lily. She was cradled in his arms, taking her bottle, looking more beautiful and perfect than any tiny human being had a right too. John loved her with every fiber of his being already.

"Colonel."

Blinking in surprise, John looked up to see Rodney standing next to his bed. "How did you do that?" he demanded.

Rodney looked perplexed. "Do what?"

"Sneak up on me? You're on crutches for pete's sake!" John felt a bit disgruntled by the fact that Lily had him so enchanted he was losing his military focus.

"You were mumbling at the baby," Rodney pointed out. "Cooing is the technical term, I believe."

John grimaced then glared at Rodney. "I was not cooing. I was TALKING to her." That said, John broke off to smile down at Lily and said in softly hushed voice, "We were just talking, weren't we?"

Rodney snorted. "Don't use baby talk," he said sharply. "She's too smart for that." Then he was leaning over John to peer down at Lily and whisper, "Aren't you? Yes, you are. Much too smart for baby talk." Rodney pursed his lips and made little smacking sounds at her.

"Pot...kettle," John shot back, then a bubble of laughter burst out of him and the effort to keep it down made him shake. But he was still able to hold on to Lily and the bottle and she didn't seem the least bit bothered by the motion. Still, John made himself calm down as he watched her turn her head to let the nipple slide out of her mouth. He set the bottle aside and lifted her up to his left shoulder, spit rag already in place. Gently John patted her back, knowing just how firm to be. Dreya had taught him, all the while calling him a natural and, oddly enough, being with Lily did feel natural. John had wondered if that was part of the bond or just something that was inside him. He rather hoped it was a little bit of both.

"Colonel?"

John jumped a bit, apologizing to Lily when she let out a soft cry at his motion. He realized he had been daydreaming and now he looked at Rodney and asked, "Did you say something?"

Rodney looked a bit put out. "Of course I said something and, of course, you weren't listening."

"I was distracted." John finished burping Lily then laid her back in the crook of his arm again where she curled up into his chest and closed her eyes. He smiled at her goofily.

"Yeah...she is a distraction," Rodney allowed, reaching out with one hand and letting his fingertips brush over the down of hair on the top of Lily's head.

John watched Rodney for a moment, a bit surprised by the beatific expression on the other man's face. He decided it was time to distract them both. "So...what were you saying that I ignored?" he taunted, light-heartedly.

Rodney frowned, snatching his hand back from Lily's head, then making a show of clumping over to the nearby chair and dropping into it. "I was telling you that Dreya and I have worked out a schedule of sorts. We've all agreed that you, she and I will be Lily's primary caretakers. Of course Beckett and Teyla will be available upon demand as well."

"_We _all agreed?" John stressed as he half-glared at Rodney.

"Like you don't want to help take care of her!" Rodney shot back, looking smug.

John didn't argue the point because he totally wanted to be a part of Lily's life. He shifted her more comfortably then asked, "Beckett hasn't let slip when he's going to let me out of here, has he?" Because the man refused to give John a set day or time.

Rodney shook his head. "No. He hasn't said a word. I don't think he trusts you to take care of yourself, Colonel."

"Hell...I'd do anything he asked of me if I could go back to my room right now."

"Would you now?" Carson interjected, as he strode over to John's bed. It was obvious he had overheard them talking. "Then you'd be willing to follow any instructions I gave you to the letter?"

John found himself nodding in agreement without meaning too. "To the letter," he repeated, solemnly. Then he winced. John knew he was going to regret making that particular promise.

Carson did a vitals check, clucked his tongue, then took Lily from John. "I told Dreya I'd deliver Lily to her when you were done with the feeding," he explained, when John started to protest. Lily shifted away and cried a bit, but when John reached out and touched her cheek she fell back to sleep. Carson smiled at that then he glared at John. "Behave yourself for the rest of the day and I'll release you to your room tonight. You will be given a list of instructions that you will follow and I will be checking up on you. If you fail to follow my instructions to the letter, you will end up back in this bed. Understood?"

"Understood," John replied, barely resisting the urge to salute. When Carson started to turn away he grabbed his arm so he could look at Lily one last time. Not that he wouldn't be seeing her again soon, but he missed her when she was gone and John sometimes wondered if the feeling of loss was magnified because Dreya felt the same way. It was hard to sort his feelings out from hers at times. John hoped it would get easier to do so as time went by.

"I think I'll head back to the lab," Rodney said, grabbing his crutches.

John smirked at him. "You just want to keep Beckett company so you can stare at Lily for a while longer," he teased.

Rodney shrugged. "Your point being?" he countered with a grin. Then he was gone, clunking his way out the door.

OoO

John felt like celebrating. He was finally back in his own room. Sure he was under strict orders to rest, rest and rest some more, but it was close enough to freedom that he felt a bit giddy. He also felt sore and achy and his head still hurt, but he was out of the infirmary and it felt wonderful. So of course the first thing John did was shower, change into jeans and a t-shirt, then he made his way to Dreya's room. Only to be sidetracked by Ronon.

"How are you doing, Sheppard?" the big guy asked, as he fell into step with John.

"I'm good, you?" John shot back, almost cheekily. Then a thought occurred. "Um...are you going to keep shadowing me everywhere I go?" he asked.

Ronon shrugged. "Pretty much," he allowed.

John considered. "Did Beckett put you up to it?" If so he was going to have a word with the Scotsman. Cursing and shouting and threats were going to be involved.

"No," Ronon replied, then he smirked. "I think he's scared of me."

"And rightly so," John allowed, letting a smile curve his own lips.

Ronon said nothing for a time, just keeping step, but then he asked, "Where are you going?"

John made a face. "To see Dreya and Lily." He figured that would be obvious.

"Dreya is in Engineering," Ronon replied.

"So where's Lily?" John felt a flare of panic.

Ronon patted his shoulder. "She's with Teyla."

John relaxed a bit. "And where is Teyla?"

"The nursery." Now it was Ronon's turn to state the obvious.

"Right." John had forgotten that Zelenka and several other of the scientists had turned a section of connecting rooms at the intersection of the living quarters into a giant nursery - slash - playroom for Lily. He hadn't even been to see it yet. Too much other stuff going on for one thing and, for another, John had just outright balked at going and he still wasn't sure why. But he found himself angling around the next corner to take the shortcut to the nursery.

Ronon kept stride. "Aren't you supposed to be resting?"

John glared at him. "Shhhh!" he hissed at him. "I'm tired of resting."

"Your funeral," Ronon deadpanned.

"Who taught you that?" John shot back, ignoring the fact that Ronon had a point. If Beckett found out John's ass was grass. But right this very moment he didn't care.

Ronon cocked an eyebrow. "Dr. Weir," he drawled.

That surprised John and he was curious to know what else she might be teaching him, but they had reached the nursery and John could hear the sound of crying. Heartbreaking cries that made his insides twist into knots. He started running and he barreled through the doors, ignoring the ache in his gut and the throbbing pain in his temples. The sight that greeted him was Teyla pacing in a bouncy type walk with a crying Lily cradled in her arms. "What's wrong?" John asked.

Teyla looked surprised to see him, but relieved. "I do not know," she replied. "I have changed her and I tried feeding her but she will not stop crying. I was just about to call for Dreya."

"Let me try," John offered, already reaching for the baby. And the moment he cradled Lily against his chest and whispered her name, she stopped crying. "Hey sweet girl," John said softly. "What's wrong, sunshine?" She was hiccupping a bit and her cheeks were still wet with tears. John brushed at them with his fingertips and felt his own eyes tearing up.

"She seems to be fine now," Ronon stated, his eyes locked on John and the baby.

Teyla looked bemused. "Indeed, she does." She moved to John and patted his shoulder. "She senses you."

John wondered if that were true and he found he rather liked the idea. "Yeah?" he whispered. "That's cool." He moved around the room, eyes locked on Lily's sweet face as she scrunched it up, made a gurgling sound of content then drifted off to sleep. John heard Teyla and Ronon talking but he tuned them out. He wanted to treasure this moment because he had learned long ago that nothing lasts forever.

OoO

The next few days were spent falling into a new routine. John followed Beckett's instructions fairly close. Close enough that he stayed out of trouble anyway, although he was forced into nightly check-ins. Beckett was pleased with John's blood pressure now so he had changed focus to John's weight. Apparently he had requested the help of everyone in Atlantis in regards to getting John fattened up.

John tolerated everyone trying to force food on him with a fair level of patience and only had one actual hissy fit when Rodney went so far as to try to hand feed him a cupcake. The part of John's day that he enjoyed most was spending time with Lily. It became apparent, early on, that the baby was taken with John. He was equally taken with her, though he tried to pretend otherwise. When no one else could get her to stop crying, John always could. She seemed to like being held though and to that end Zelenka had fashioned a baby carrier that reminded him of a giant sling. But it was comfortable enough for him and Lily enjoyed being snuggled in close to his chest, so John adjusted to that rather quickly and he went everywhere with Lily riding shot gun, so to speak.

John had spoken to Dreya about his spending so much time with Lily and she had assured him she was fine with it. Pleased even, and she did seem happy and content so John let it go. Soon enough he would be back to work and his time with Lily would be limited, so he intended to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

With going back to work on his mind, John went to see Elizabeth. Once settled into a chair in her office, he shifted Lily out of the sash carrier, shrugged it off his shoulder and settled the baby in his arm so he could feed her. He knew Elizabeth was watching him and John caught her at it, grinning when she looked a bit embarrassed.

"You're really good with her," Elizabeth stated, almost defensively.

"She makes it easy," John replied, as he smiled down at Lily.

Elizabeth nodded. "She's a good baby."

John could not agree more. "That she is. And as much as I love talking about her, that's not why I'm here."

"Okay...why are you here?" Elizabeth prompted, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands in her lap.

"I'm here to ask when I can go back through the gate. "It's been almost two weeks since Lily was born and I'm feeling much better. Actually, I'm feeling great!" John winced at his own faux pas. "I'm ready to get back into the action."

Elizabeth made a face. "I know you're anxious to get back to work, John, but Carson hasn't cleared you yet."

John watched Lily fuss with the bottle a moment, shifted her into a better position, then focused on Elizabeth again. "That's kind of why I'm here. Can you get him to clear me? I mean...I don't what the man is waiting for. Christmas?" John knew he wasn't hiding his frustration in the least and he didn't care. He wanted to get back into the swing of things.

"He just got your blood pressure leveled out and he's not happy about your weight gain," Elizabeth countered. "And, to be honest, I don't think you should rush this."

"I disagree." Lily spit out the bottle and John shifted her onto his shoulder after draping a spit rag over it. He burped her as he continued. "Look...I need to get back to work. As much as I love Lily and I have no regrets about what's happened...I need to get back to my real life."

Elizabeth sighed. "I understand," she conceded. "But you're going to have to take it up with Carson. If he clears you I'll okay a test run mission for you."

John felt a flicker of hope and excitement. "Really?" he prompted.

"Really."

"Great, thanks." John rose to his feet, still burping Lily. He paused to shove her bottle in his back pocket then he collected the sash carrier before resuming the burping as he headed out the door. Now it was time to turn his charm on Beckett.

OoO

Beckett refused to be charmed. John bitched at him and he held firm. So John backed off for a bit, focusing his attention on pestering Rodney in his lab when he wasn't taking care of Lily.

Then one night Dreya dropped a bombshell on him.

Part of John's new routine was putting Lily to bed with Dreya. Tonight, after they both kissed her goodnight and closed the door, they headed into the living area. Normally they would talk a bit or play a card game that John had taught Dreya, but tonight she asked him to sit and John sensed something was up.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, feeling a bit nervous without knowing why.

"No...everything is fine," Dreya replied, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I wish to ask something of you. And you are under no obligation to agree."

John felt the knot of tension tighten in his gut. "Okay...ask," he invited.

Dreya paced for a moment, then she sat beside him, her eyes locked on John's face. "I watch you with Lily," she whispered, holding up a hand to forestall him from commenting. "You love her as much as she loves you. You have bonded with her as only parent can. She loves you as she would have loved her father and I know that you love her as if she were your own."

"Yeah...I do love her," John interjected. And it scared him a little to realize how much and to have Dreya say out loud the truth he had been trying to avoid. In John's heart, Lily was his daughter.

"I trust in that love," Dreya continued. "And that is why I would ask something of you that you might not be willing to give."

John was confused but curious. "Okay...what would you ask?"

Dreya reached for his hand. "If something should happen to me, I want you to care for Lily. I want you to raise her."

"Dreya...nothing is going to happen to you!" John shot back, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck raise. A chill slithered down his spine. "There's nothing wrong with you, is there? I mean...Beckett hasn't said anything."

"No...no, I'm fine," Dreya said firmly. "I just want to make sure that Lily is never alone. That she will always have someone in her life that loves her the way only a parent can love. There is a ceremony of my people that I would ask that you participate in. I have spoken to Dr. Weir, and she told me that there are papers we can sign that would be binding in your ways, making you Lily's father in every way. Adoption papers, I think she called them."

John shot out of his chair and started pacing. He was Lily's father in his heart and in his mind and now Dreya wanted to make it legal and binding by ceremony and paper. He felt himself shaking. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, moving to stand before Dreya. "I mean...I love Lily and I'll do anything for her, but I do have a rather dangerous job and...I'm not really a good role model and - " he broke off, not really sure how to explain himself.

Dreya touched a hand to his face and her expression was serene as she replied, "I am sure, John."

"Oh...okay then." John felt his knees buckle and he back pedaled till he found the chair and collapsed into it. "So, um...when do you want to do this?"

"Dr. Weir has already taken care of the paper work. She said the Daedalus will bring whatever you need to sign when they return. And the ceremony will be in two days."

John nodded, his mouth feeling suddenly dry. "On your planet?" he asked, because he really did not want to return there ever.

Dreya nodded. "Yes. Is that okay?"

"It's fine." John winced as his voice squeaked. He got up and found himself heading for the door. He waved goodbye to Dreya, hoping she would understand his need to be alone now, and as he practically ran down the corridor to the nearest transporter, John found himself whispering, "I'm going to be a daddy."

And didn't reality just love to bitch slap him in the face?

**THE END...of part 30**


	31. Chapter 31

AN: this chapter takes on a very serious complication of the postpartum period, and just a warning about the dark content. Also, this story will be ending soon, but we're going to start the sequel that will deal with the plot that was working under the pregnancy plot, and promise it'll be a wild ride. Sorry for the delay in updates! As for the bond - it's still there, with Dreya and the baby, it lasts for a full moon cycle, about five to six weeks on Dreya's planet, so the bond is almost finished, and just in time for John...

**Not the Daddy…part 31**

**Pregnancy clock: 4 weeks postpartum**

Sheppard strode to the Jumper, purposefully adding jauntiness to his step that he didn't feel. They were going back to Eradia for a few days, to have the legal ceremony for Dreya formalizing that he was Lily's father- _father_ – he still stumbled over that word.

He clearly remembered being told about the bond back when he'd thought he was suffering from nothing more than a virulent case of Eradian flu.

_Pregnant – what's that got to do with anything?_ It'd been his gut reaction to Rodney's revelation, and it'd had everything to do with it – looking back now, his thoughts of 'just get it over with' seemed incredibly naïve. The pregnancy, the birth – the baby…it had changed _everything_.

The hatch opened, and he marched in. Sitting on the bench were Dreya holding a cooing Lily, and Teyla. Sitting across from them were Ronon and Beckett. John did a double take.

"Doc?"

He really didn't need following like this.

Beckett just smiled pleasantly and answered, "Colonel?"

He set his jaw and figured he could be just as stubborn. He nodded to the man, and headed for the cockpit, paused at the hatch, remembering something, and spun on his feet, stepping in front of Dreya and Lily, before bending down to drop a light kiss on her and grin. "Can't forget my girl," he murmured, before turning and heading back for the pilot's seat.

As he walked through the cockpit door, McKay turned to look at him, and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "That's not going to help, you do realize that?"

Sheppard feigned ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Rodney merely snorted. "Layering your clothes is not going to offer any protection against women attempting to bond you – besides, didn't Dreya tell you that until this bond ends, you're safe?"

Dreya had, but John's knew motto was 'better safe than sorry', and if any Eradian women happened to trip into him, they were going to find out just how hard the ground was.

Of course, that was if he didn't melt first, because the layers of clothing that Rodney had so aptly picked up on, were giving him heat stroke. He'd put on long johns, t-shirt and pants, then another of his black shirts just in case, and finalized the outfit with his jacket and mission vest. If anyone did manage to touch him, maybe the bond would be deflected by the thick layers between them and his skin. His memories were a little vague, but he was pretty sure he'd been in his t-shirt and a vest when Dreya had gotten him.

While he'd meant it that he wouldn't change anything, it didn't mean he was signing up to do it again. Speaking of which, surreptitiously, he eyed McKay. "You sure you aren't too hot, maybe want to take off that jacket?" Give the women another target…

Rodney adjusted his coat and shook his head a little too quickly. "No, no – I'm fine." Changing the subject, he poked a button on the panel and said, "Elizabeth, we're ready here."

Scowling, Sheppard poked the button on his side. "Flight, this is Jumper one. We're prepped and ready." He turned his head towards Rodney. "My ship, my mission, don't be a back seat driver."

Rodney removed his hand from the button and put every ounce of sufferance in his next statement. "Is it just me, or am I sitting in the 'co-pilot's' chair?"

He probably would've been good if he'd left it at that, but Rodney never was one to know when to stop, so he felt the need to add, "Besides, technically, it's not a mission, and your watchdog back there wouldn't even let me pack you a bottle of Nyquil without his permission."

"You packed my bag?" Sheppard's hand had paused over the controls, and he frowned at the pack behind McKay's chair. "I always leave it packed, what'd you do to it?"

"Colonel," drawled McKay in his best 'you are such a silly child' voice, "It's been since Baltar; and what a fun trip that was; since you've been on a mission. I merely – added some things, including Nyquil, because you've got a cold, and God knows, you never take care of yourself as it is -"

Now Sheppard was beginning to look thunderous. "I got you a baby to fuss over, what more do you need?"

"Jumper One," Elizabeth's voice broke over the comms, "You've been cleared for flight." There was a short pause before she finished, "And John - be safe."

She said it warmly, and John knew she wished she could be there, but it was time for the Daedalus to return, and she was needed in the city. It was good enough, because judging from the people in the ship, he had enough babysitters on this trip as it was.

"Copy that, Flight. Jumper One is a go," he said while massaging the controls into movement. The ship rose gracefully, and then dropped when the doors to the gateroom slid open, before shooting into the event horizon.

As they broke through on the other side, McKay continued where he left off. "Are you sure you don't need another jacket, maybe a flak vest – I could've rigged up a kryptonite version if you'd ask nice enough." He was ignoring the baby comment, and the fact wasn't lost on either man.

It took all Sheppard had to remain calm, but he managed. He parked the ship, and stood up, reluctantly grabbing his pack, because now he wondered just what Rodney had put in there, before heading to the back.

"Ready?" he asked Dreya.

She nodded, and he noticed for the first time how emotional she seemed. It looked like it was all she could do to keep things in check. He slid his pack onto his shoulders and held out his arms for Lily. "Here, let me," he said taking her and shushing softly as she fussed at the transfer.

Carson stood and grabbed his things, and so did Ronon and Teyla. McKay had gathered with everyone else, and Sheppard led the way out of the Jumper. It was a supreme effort, to take that first step out that hatch, but he managed without missing a step.

He ignored McKay's mumble to Ronon, "Watch out for grumpy, think he's spent to many late nights with you-know-who."

Rodney calling him grumpy? He almost looked up to see if the sky was falling.

The hike to Dreya's home didn't take long, and when they arrived, Hamas was waiting. Sheppard held back while they shared a happy reunion, but then Dreya was waving him forward, and John realized why. The sleeping infant in his arms, and even though she only weighed eight pounds and some change, the weight was starting to make his arms ache.

He stepped forward, and eased her into Hamas' waiting embrace. The Eradian man seemed spellbound. Sheppard shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling out of place.

The Eradian leader cleared his throat, as if trying to speak clearly, but Sheppard knew it was to help clear the emotion-filled lump in his throat. The small bundle in his arms entranced Hamas, and when he looked up at Dreya, it was with tears in his eyes. "She looks like Beren."

Dreya nodded, as struck by the moment as the other. "She does, Hamas. Your brother will live on."

Brother? John looked over at Rodney, and saw him mouth it to him, asking the same thing – did you know – and all he could do was shake his head. He hadn't known either. Hamas was Beren's brother? And now, Sheppard was as much as stepping in and taking Lily away, along with Dreya. Damn, this was a tangled web. Would the man be resentful? In his place, wouldn't he?

The sudden urge to flee was strong…and take Lily with him.

A hand against his back, and Sheppard slid his eyes over enough to see who – Ronon. He must be getting transparent. The runner merely jerked his head in an equivalent of 'stay', before removing his hand.

After the greetings were finished, the group spread into the house. Hamas had kept it cleaned and in order for her return visits, as infrequent as they may be, and everyone split into groups to put their gear away in the rooms provided. Sheppard and McKay, along with Beckett took one of the larger rooms. There were two big beds and someone had placed something on the floor that looked suspiciously like a futon mattress.

Teyla and Ronon, by mutual agreement, which was definitely something John was going to have to discuss with Teyla, headed for a room while Lily took the one that had been her and her husband's.

John let his bag fall on the ground, and not thinking about just who was in the room with him, let out a soft groan and collapsed on the bed farthest from the door. He was roasting in the clothes, and more tired than he felt he should be, but as Rodney pointed out, he had caught an annoying cold. Beckett had droned on about immune system suppression from the pregnancy and delivery, and being susceptible, but what had gotten him the most was a stern, 'limit contact with the baby so you don't make her sick.

For the most part, he'd complied. For the most part.

Eyes closed, he thought maybe he'd just go to sleep right now, but a touch on his forehead had his eyes snapping open. Beckett was frowning at him, but pulling the hand back, and moving towards his medical bag.

"I'm fine, Doc – just tired."

Beckett ignored him, and Rodney was watching with…concern. "You're warm," said Carson, pulling a thermometer out of his supplies.

Sheppard held a hand up, blocking the intended path of the thermometer. "I'm wearing about five layers of clothing!" He started to shuck out of the vest and jacket, and felt instant relief.

"He's trying to avoid being pregnant again," Rodney said smugly. "I tried to tell him he was safe…"

"I'm on Eradia, and in my book, that's not safe," John retorted waspishly. As he pulled off the extra t-shirt, he glanced into Carson's bag and saw a bottle of pills. His eyes narrowed, and he tried to read the label – even as he did that, a thought wound it's way through his mind, what would happen if he took the entire bottle? It was almost clinical, as he contemplated the fog of the drugged state, and then the darkness after.

Pulling his attention away, he did a mental shake. What was that about? Weird – but then again, sometimes odd random thoughts did occur. He remembered when he was a teen and had gotten his driver's license, more than a few times he'd wondered what would happen if he jerked the wheel that way – the crunch of metal, how hard the impact would be, what damage would it cause? Sometimes weird thoughts happen. That's all it was, he told himself, just a random odd thought, and nothing else.

"Aye, I imagine you don't feel secure, but that's no reason to give yourself heat exhaustion, Colonel." Beckett returned the thermometer to his bag, but still studied Sheppard with more of an eagle eye than John liked, but eventually gave that up as well.

Carson slid off the bed, and returned the medical bag to his things. "I'll be out with the others," he grumbled, before leaving.

Feeling too tired to cope with putting up a wall with Rodney, John slumped back on the bed, now that Carson was gone.

"I really wouldn't let anyone do it again," whispered McKay, suddenly so close that Sheppard felt a jolt inside.

He kept his eyes closed and shrugged. "You wouldn't be able to prevent it."

"I would do my best."

Sheppard's mind drifted back to the bottle of pills – "Sometimes your best isn't good enough."

That stung McKay, and John felt it in the sudden thickness of the air, and regretted his careless words. The events on project Arcturus weren't easily forgotten. Forgiven, definitely, but not forgotten.

Sitting, Sheppard swore, "Damnit, I didn't mean it like that, Rodney."

But McKay was already gone. The pills weren't. Things were too damn complicated. He sighed, and purposefully not looking at Beckett's things, Sheppard headed for the door. He had a ceremony to deal with, and once that was over, he could leave this cursed place for good.

OoO

"By the Eradian custom of our ancestors, I invoke the parental rights requested by Dreya Lathos-Beren, and do decree -" Hamas dabbed a finger into a pot, and drew a straight line down Dreya's forehead, then Lily's, before repeating with Sheppard, "- that John Sheppard do be the father of Lily Beren Sheppard-McKay."

John was kneeling beside Dreya, and Lily rested in Dreya's arms, while Hamas towered over, standing to the side of an altar, dressed in white ceremonial robes. Rodney stood to his right, and a woman that John had met before the ceremony, stood to Dreya's left. It was her mother's sister, as Dreya had explained that her parents had died while she was young.

Hamas stepped back, and wiped his hand on a towel before continuing. "Is there one you would name second father?" prompted Hamas ritually.

John had been walked through a rehearsal so knew how to proceed. He stood, and nodded. "There is. Rodney McKay shall be second father to Lily Beren Sheppard-McKay."

Hamas bowed his head in acknowledgement, and stepped to Rodney, dipping his finger again in the pot, before marking the line on McKay's forehead, matching the lines on Dreya and John.

"Is there one you would name for second mother?"

Dreya had already discussed this with John, so it was no surprise when she said "There is. Teyla Emmagen shall be second mother to Lily Beren Sheppard-McKay."

Teyla stepped into place, having been slightly behind Dreya's aunt, and remained still while Hamas repeated the mark.

When he was finished, he stepped to the center, wiping his hands again, before pronouncing. "To all, look upon the new family of Lily Beren Sheppard-McKay, may she be raised with wisdom and love." Hamas brought his attention to the four figures, and the now squirming infant. "The bond of parent to child is a bond forged in the womb, shared with second mother and father, and a bond of blood."

This too, Sheppard was prepared for, but he still flinched slightly when Hamas drew the ritual blade. He didn't like what this required but like Earth, every culture had their own customs, and while this would not be fun for Lily, it wasn't going to cause any lasting harm, Carson had assured him of that.

Hamas eased Lily's tender foot from the blankets, and make a quick poke, just enough to cause a bead of blood. He siphoned it into a small vial, and then kissed her wound, sealing it with ritual. Dreya held her arm and waited for the small cut that Hamas made, only slightly deeper than a paper cut, and collected a small dribble of her blood. He then repeated with Teyla, before standing in front of John.

Sheppard held his arm, and found himself staring at the knife, fascinated. He was willingly holding his life out, and all it would take was one quick slice by Hamas, and he'd be dead. The sudden wash of pain startled him, and he focused on the cut, where Hamas was already collecting his blood. He breathed, realizing he'd stopped for only a moment.

McKay shifted nervously, but held out his arm. John remembered Rodney's alarm at this part of the ceremony. He'd grouched that it made adoption proceedings back home seem like a walk in the park. Nothing like having to give up some blood to make things seem all the more scarier.

Once the blood was collected and mixed, Hamas held the vial aloft. "To family!" he shouted.

"To family!" the crowd shouted back.

And it was done. In the eyes of Eradia, he was Lily's father. It almost seemed – anticlimactic.

As Hamas moved away, and started to clean up from the ritual, Beckett pushed forward, band-aids ready. John submitted, but he spent the entire time cooing at Lily and ignoring Carson.

"I can't believe I let someone cut me with a knife," stammered McKay.

John's head swiveled sharply, because there'd been a tone to Rodney's statement, and taking in the pale face, he reached for McKay just as the man went down like a deflated plastic toy.

"Rodney?" he called, as he tried to ease him down without falling himself. "You okay?"

"No," McKay's voice sounded tinny and far-away. "I'm going to pass out."

Beckett bullied over, and started checking him over. "Close your eyes, Rodney, and breathe in slowly, and out. Nice and steady, lad."

What was wrong with Rodney, hit John like a boulder on a downhill slide, and he felt himself grow as pale as McKay. He'd been cut once before, in the arm, and it hadn't been so long ago that the memory had faded enough. Koyla – the bastard, had carved into Rodney's arm to get the scientist to talk. And how could he have been so stupid as to forget!

Kneeling close enough for only Rodney to hear, John whispered, "It's okay, there's no bad guys here, Rodney. Just us, and the baby. I won't let anyone hurt you, promise."

Rodney rolled his head towards John and whined, "Why'd he have to cut in the same place? I would've been good anywhere else – but he chose the same spot. Wasn't one scar enough?"

Sheppard rocked back to his haunches, and sighed. "One scar is never enough," he murmured, but he wasn't sure who he was talking to, himself or McKay.

Ronon knelt down and helped Beckett get Rodney to his feet. The runner didn't make any snide comments on the fragility of certain individuals, but the heavy frown promised Sheppard that he was going to get questions later. The invasion by the Genii had been before Dex had joined their expedition.

"Will he be all right?" Dreya asked.

Lily snuggled deeper into her blankets in Dreya's arms, and John had the urge to take her, but he remembered the cold and Beckett's admonishment to limit contact.

John nodded abruptly. "He'll be fine, just – bad memories."

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and they spent a restless night trying to ignore each other's breathing in the confined room. Sheppard slept badly, but tried to not let his exhaustion show in the morning.

Judging by the sharp looks from Carson, he wasn't succeeding.

It'd been a bittersweet trip, and all John wanted to do, was get back to Atlantis. His first trip out of the gate and he wanted to turn tail and run. Rodney had been subdued as well, after the ceremony, and Sheppard figured it might be worth getting him alone and talking about later.

Later – when his own mixed emotions weren't bogging him down.

He'd found himself staring all night at the bottle of pills in Beckett's bag, just along the wall, right in reach, and not even knowing why. It scared him, but what could he do? 'Oh, by the way Doc, I think I might have something weird going on because I'm thinking about sneaking a bunch of pills – and I don't even know why'. Yeah, that'd go over great.

Suicidal thoughts, but he wasn't suicidal, what the hell was that all about?

Atlantis - get back to the city, back to his room, and back to normal.

OoO

And that's just what he did, and he tried to ignore the nagging thought of how easy it would be to just inch the Jumper to the side, and see how hard it'd impact with the gate.

The second he'd cleared and landed, John escaped. He gathered his gear, and all but ran for his quarters. That last thought scared him, and what was even worse, is that he had to make a conscious effort not to give in. What the fuck was going on?

He used his cold as an excuse to beg off visits from Elizabeth, and managed to hide until Beckett came calling.

"Open up, Colonel – I hear you're not feeling well?"

John threw his radio at the door.

He knew it, even as Carson did it – medical override.

"Can't you leave me alone, just for a while?" he bitched.

"I did, it's been over twenty-four hours since we returned." Beckett came the remainder of the distance to Sheppard's bed. "Is your cold really worse, or are you just avoiding people?"

"Elizabeth snitched."

"Snitched is a childish term," rejoined Carson. "Mentioned in passing if I'd given you anything to help is a better description."

"She's sneaky, Doc. Snitched."

Beckett sighed, but didn't argue more. He pulled out a few things from his medical kit, and ordered John to sit up. Sheppard did so…reluctantly. He was passive while Carson completed a quick exam.

When Beckett finished, he eyed John puzzled. "You don't seem worse, so what's going on? Is this about becoming Lily's father officially?"

Was it? "Maybe – I don't know," admitted Sheppard irritably. "Just felt a need to get away from everyone for a while. How's Rodney?" he asked, changing the topic.

"Bounced back faster than a rubber bouncy ball." Carson finished tucking away his instruments, and then folded his arms across his chest, making it clear to Sheppard that he wasn't letting the change slide. "He's getting annoyed with you. Seems you didn't show for your babysitting duty last night."

"I was tired," John defended. But he knew it wasn't why.

They both fell quiet then, each one regarding the other warily but Beckett caved first. "Colonel, you're health checks fine, but keep this up, and I won't be reporting the same again, is that clear?"

"Crystal, Doc." He'd gotten a reprieve, and there wouldn't be another. He got that.

"Elizabeth is looking for you. Colonel Caldwell got back last night, and has the paperwork for Lily's adoption." Carson headed for the door but took the chance to get one more scolding in. "If you'd not been avoiding her, you would've known that for yourself. Remember, Colonel, you're head of the military contingent – start acting like it."

As the door closed behind Beckett, Sheppard couldn't help but think how unfair that was.

OoO

It was after he'd signed the papers, along with Dreya, that Sheppard decided his cold had cleared enough to spend some quality time with Lily. He wandered down to the nursery, and found her with Teyla and Ronon.

The big guy was shaking a rattle over her, as Lily lay on her back in the crib that had been brought back by the Daedalus. John would've liked to have seen that requisition form.

"You know, she's too young for that." Sheppard had read the book about the baby's first weeks and knew she wouldn't be able to start reaching and grabbing for another month or so.

Ronon shrugged. "She likes it."

"How do you know?" Lily had two expressions, sleeping and wide-eyed. Well, maybe three, she had these smiles right when she was filling a diaper and that was about the time John handed Lily to McKay and found a reason to leave.

"Because."

Okay, then. John grinned at the baby, and swept her into his arms. "Hey, baby," he cooed. She responded by staring at him wide-eyed. He grinned wider. "Yeah, it's daddy. You know daddy, don't you – sweetie."

"She does," agreed Teyla. "We will be back…John."

The change to his first name had been gradual, but there. Awkward at first, since the initiation had been the events when he'd been subjected to the retrovirus, but with the pregnancy and birth, the team had become closer than before, and first names were natural progression of that closeness.

He nodded at them, and found the rocking chair, settling down with Lily, and tugging her tiny feet free of the blanket, singing softly while he motored her little legs, "The wheels on the bus go round and round…"

OoO

Later that night, as he looked back to his time with Lily, he imagined life couldn't be sweeter, but now he sat on the balcony, cradling a jug of Radek's moonshine, and the bottle of pills he'd snatched from Beckett's bag. Even as he asked himself what he was doing here, like this, he took a swallow and downed a couple of pills. It was like a compulsion, something whispering in his mind, and as he screamed against it, he was doing it.

He grew lethargic, and fuzzy, and inwardly prayed for someone to find him – because he didn't know why this was happening. Darkness began to encroach, and all he could do was think of Lily – and Rodney…

TBC


	32. Chapter 32

AN: Yes, we're evil, but at least we're 'evil writers that update frequently'! Titan5, in the interests of your students, here's the newest update, so read and then get back to grading those papers (well, you COULD write some on your story, update, and THEN go grade - just saying...)

**NOT THE DADDY...part 32**

**Pregnancy clock: 5 weeks postpartum**

He heard voices, someone saying his name. It tugged John out of the heavy lethargy he was feeling, pulling him towards total consciousness. But opening his eyes was easier said then done. John needed to rub at them – they were gritty and reluctant, so he lifted one hand - only it wouldn't reach his face. He tried harder but there was resistance pulling on his wrists and that realization was motivation enough for him to peel his eyes open. He blinked hard then looked down to find himself in restraints. "Wh-what?" John croaked, tugging hard against them.

Beckett appeared, hands on his arms, trying to calm him. "Easy, Colonel. Just take it easy now."

"What's going on?" John demanded, but his voice was hoarse and a bit slurred.

"Take a sip of water to ease your throat," Carson commanded, even as he reached for the glass and held the straw for John.

John did as he was told because his throat was dry, then he coughed, and tried again. "What happened? Why am I in restraints?"

Carson sighed. "It's just a precaution, son."

"A precaution for what?" John shot back, still pulling on the restraints.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Carson countered.

John went still, closing his eyes and trying to think back. Then it hit him. The balcony, the moonshine, the pills. "You found me," John whispered.

Carson patted his shoulder. "Aye…Rodney found you. Just in time too. I had to pump your stomach and I'm betting you're not feeling all that well at the moment."

John couldn't argue against the last statement, not when his insides suddenly twisted and he was grateful when Beckett read his expression correctly and grabbed a basin. It was hard to puke when you couldn't really curl up or hold your stomach, but John managed to heave up everything but his insides anyway. Then Beckett was wiping his face with a cool cloth and offering him something to rinse his mouth. "Thanks," John whispered, when he was able to relax back against the pillows. After a moment he tugged on the restraints again. "You can take these off."

"Can I?" Carson's tone was sharp.

"It won't happen again," John assured him. And he would make sure it wouldn't. "It shouldn't have happened at all," he continued.

Carson scrubbed one hand over his face then dropped down into the chair next to the bed. "Aye...you've got that right. I still can't believe it did. No one can. We're all feeling a little numb and a bit angry at ourselves."

John was surprised to hear that. He figured everyone would be pissed at him. "I don't understand," he admitted. "I took the stupid pills." And he remembered how he had railed against himself even as he swallowed them down. He was all fucked up and he knew it. But everything was clearer now. John knew it would never happen again. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to leave Lily behind.

"We should have seen the signs, Colonel," Carson explained. "You haven't been yourself for a long time. Ever since coming to Atlantis you've been through so much and the pregnancy bond was just the last of it. You barely had time to get over almost turning into a bug. And not once have you ever spoken with Heightmeyer. I blame myself for that. I should have pushed you to do so. No one should be expected to handle even half of what you've been through in the last two and a half years, Colonel."

"I can handle it just fine!" John shot back, feeling stunned by Beckett's words. "Look...what happened...it was a mistake. I didn't want to die. I was just...I guess I was just tired and a little freaked by everything. But I'm fine now. Really."

Carson rose to his feet, looking as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "You will be," he allowed. "You start sessions with Kate tomorrow morning."

John was stunned. "No!" he snapped. "I won't talk to her!"

"You don't have a choice!" Carson was just as angry. "You tried to kill yourself, Colonel! Neither Dr. Weir nor myself will clear you back to duty or even let you off of suicide watch if you don't! I realize you're all confused right now, son. You have to let us take care of you. Just focus on getting better."

"I'm not sick!" John felt a flare of panic. "You don't understand!" He wanted to explain only he realized he didn't know how to explain something he didn't understand himself.

Carson looked at him with eyes brimming with sympathy. "It'll be all right, Colonel. We're going to take care of you. Right now I want you to get some rest." He was moving to the IV and he injected something. "Just a little something to help you relax."

John wanted to scream at him that he was wrong, that this was wrong, but he didn't have the energy. He felt heavy and exhausted and a warm darkness wrapped around him and dragged him into oblivion.

OoO

When John woke up the next time he found Rodney slumped in the chair. He looked like he was dozing but before John could say a word, he straightened and looked at him. Sadness glittered in Rodney's eyes. John looked away. "I want to see Lily." He needed to see her. He had dreamed about her floating away from Atlantis on a small raft, leaving John stranded on a balcony, trapped behind some kind of force field, unable to save her.

Rodney rubbed his eyes then shook his head. "Not now. Maybe later."

"Why not now?" John demanded, then he was pulling on the damn restraints and cursing. "I need to see her, Rodney! Please!" He would beg and beg and beg if he had too. "I need to see that she's all right. Please!"

"Maybe." Rodney stood up and moved closer, hobbling just a little on his walking cast, since he had ditched his crutches before going back to Eradia for the ceremony. "I'll talk to Beckett. I'm sure Dreya won't mind. She wants to see you too."

John wasn't appeased. "I need to see her now. Just for a minute. Please, Rodney!" John was sure that Rodney could see how desperate he was. See it and hear it.

Rodney opened and closed his mouth a few times. He looked defeated. After a moment he asked, "Why?"

"Why what?" John didn't have time for games. There was this heavy, aching, weight inside him. He needed to see Lily, to know that she was all right. He needed to hold her in his arms.

"Why did you do this? Why did you try to kill yourself?" Rodney looked ready to cry.

John closed his own eyes against the sudden sting of tears. He felt frustrated and tired and scared and pretty much all alone right now. Rodney thought he wanted to die. That was a thousand kinds of wrong. "I didn't want to die," John whispered. "It was stupid and it won't happen again. I promise."

Rodney made a choked sound then he snapped, "Don't make promises you can't keep!"

There was nothing John could say to that. He looked at Rodney, at the dark circles under the other man's eyes and John realized that Rodney was angry at him, but that he was also scared for him. Something inside John twisted at that. But he had to focus on Lily right now. "Rodney...I dreamed that she was drifting away from me on a raft in the water surrounding Atlantis and it was so real. I couldn't reach her and save her...I need to see her!" John's voice was a broken whisper as he begged Rodney with his eyes.

"I'll talk to Beckett," Rodney said, but even as he spoke they heard footsteps approaching.

Only it wasn't Beckett, it was Dreya and she was holding a fretful Lily.

John felt the fear inside him unfurl just a tiny bit and he could breathe again. He smiled as Dreya moved to his side and she held Lily out so that he could touch her, despite the restraints. "Hey, sweetheart," John whispered. He was pleased when Lily's fretful cries diminished. "Can I hold her?" John locked eyes with Dreya.

She didn't hesitate. She laid Lily down in the cradle of John's blanketed lap, then she went to work on undoing the restraints.

"You can't do that!" Rodney protested, trying to stop her.

"Why? Do you think he'll hurt Lily?" There was anger in Dreya's voice as she challenged Rodney.

He froze and pulled back. "No...I know he wouldn't hurt her."

Dreya nodded. "That's right. And she needs him. You know how fussy she's been since...since he's been here. Look how much calmer she is already. And I brought a bottle, hoping she'll eat some more." While talking, Lily got one restraint off and moved to work on the other one.

John was a bit resentful at being talked about as if he wasn't there, but he decided to tune it out to focus on Lily. He brushed a fingertip over one soft cheek. "I missed you, princess," John whispered. Then his other hand was free and he lifted Lily to cradle her against his chest. He accepted the bottle that Dreya held out. John was pleased when Lily accepted it and closed her eyes in contentment as she sucked on it. "Thank you." John looked at both Dreya and Rodney as he spoke.

Rodney looked uncertain. "I should tell Beckett about this."

"You do what you have to do, Rodney," John stated. He didn't want to put his friend between a rock and a hard place. He knew that actions spoke louder than words and the truth was he had swallowed the pills, washing them down with the booze. John winced at the memory, then he turned to Dreya, who was watching him with a soft smile on her face. "How are you doing?"

"Better now," she replied, reaching out to touch his face. "Lily needed you. She missed you."

John nodded, staring back down at his daughter. And she was his daughter in every way that mattered. "I'm sorry...about what happened. I don't...I don't know why I did that."

Dreya squeezed his shoulder. "We'll work through this, John. That's all that matters."

John could accept that for now. He focused on Lily, watching as she finished the bottle. Then he burped and kissed her face then snuggled her against his chest until she fell asleep. He didn't remember following her into slumber. He didn't know that Dreya sat beside them, keeping watch until morning.

OoO

John's morning didn't go well. First he had to beg Beckett to let him take a shower and he was finally given the go ahead, under the condition that Rodney - who had the lousy timing to show up mid-argument - stayed in the room with him. John bitched about that for a time, then relented. He wanted the shower. The worst part of having Rodney in the bathroom with him was that Rodney was depressed. He wouldn't talk to John at all, he wouldn't even snark back at him when John tried to bait him into an argument, just so it felt like old times.

After the shower came the argument over breakfast. John wasn't hungry but if he had to eat he was determined to go to the messhall to do it. He didn't need to be in the infirmary. He wasn't sick. Beckett had exploded at him, reminding him that **HE** was the CMO and therefore John was completely under his control. A reminder that pissed John off so that he exploded back. A nurse intervened, a tray was brought, John ignored it. Beckett threatened him with a feeding tube and John dared him to try. Ronon broke up that particular fight.

Just before lunch Beckett came back to apologize. John did the same. For all of about ten minutes there was a truce between them because John understood that Beckett was only trying to do his job. That he really was trying to help him. But when Heightmeyer showed up, John lost it again. When Beckett threatened to sedate him, which meant he wouldn't be able to see Lily later, John caved. He agreed to talk to Heightmeyer.

But after an hour of him playing word games with her, she left with a warning and John was fed up enough at this point to simply walk out. Only he had barely thrown the blankets off when Elizabeth showed up.

"Going somewhere?" She queried, her tone suggesting amusement on her part, although her eyes were shadowed and serious.

"I don't need to be here," John shot back. "I'm not sick!"

Elizabeth moved to the bed and drew the blankets back over him. "Not physically," she allowed. "But do you deny the fact that you stole a bottle of booze and a bottle of pills and swallowed enough of them to kill you?"

John winced because it was a low blow and a direct hit. Elizabeth was never one to mince words or deny the truth. "It won't happen again. I promise." And John meant what he said.

"I'd like to believe you," Elizabeth said softly, as she moved the chair closer to the bed and sat down. "To be honest, I don't think you want to die, John. I think what you did was a cry for help."

"Help for what?" John was frustrated and he didn't hide it. "I can't explain why I did what I did, I wish I could. But it happened and it's over and it scared me enough that I guarantee you it _will not happen again." _

Elizabeth made a face, then she clasped her hands together and looked him in the eye. "I think you mean that with all your heart, John. I really do. But you just pointed out the bottom line here. You can't explain why you did it. And until you can...I can't turn my back on what happened. I can't let you walk out of here as if everything was okay. It's not okay. You're not okay. That's what you need to accept right now. Then you can move on to the next step and start working your way back to normal."

John laughed at that, a sound that was short and devoid of humor. "Define normal, Elizabeth. I was the first non-pregnant, pregnant man in the history of two galaxies."

"Which is something none of us were prepared to deal with," Elizabeth countered. "I'm not putting all the burden of what happened on you, John. We all share part of the blame. We've asked too much of you...expected too much...from the moment you came to Atlantis."

"Don't go there," John shot back. "I'm not having some mental break down or suffering Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome."

Elizabeth stood up and moved closer, reaching for John's hand. She held firm when he tried to pull away. "This is hard for me because you're more than just the military head of Atlantis. You're a friend. So I want to do right by you in every way. I've given it a lot of thought and this is what the bottom line is. You go into sessions with Kate. We will all do what we can to support you."

John tugged his hand free and glared at her as he countered, "And if I don't agree to do that? Then what?"

"Then we've decided it would be best to confine you to a suite of rooms, allowing us to keep you under observation, and Dr. Beckett would prescribe meds for you." Elizabeth did not look happy giving him this ultimatum.

"What about Lily? Are you going to keep her away from me?" It was hard for John to keep his voice from cracking as he asked.

Elizabeth winced. "Yes. For now it would best to keep you separated."

John opened his mouth to argue with her, to protest, to impress upon her how wrong she was but the bottom line here came down to Lily. A part of John had enough doubt to consider that Weir might be right about him. He knew he wasn't crazy, yet he couldn't explain what had happened. And he couldn't stay away from Lily. Right now she was his sanity. "If I agree to see Heightmeyer, can I go back to my room now? Can I see Lily?"

"You can go back to your room, but you'll need to check in with Beckett and there will be hourly check-ins and someone will stay with your during the night. At least for a while." Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose then continued. "But you will be allowed to see Lily. In fact, Dreya has insisted upon it. Lily has made it very clear that she misses you. She's not sleeping or eating well."

"Fine...I'll talk to Heightmeyer." And John would do it. He just wasn't going to bare his soul to the woman. He'd been forced to talk to shrinks in the past and he knew exactly what he had to say and how he had to act. He could do it again. Anything to be with Lily.

Elizabeth looked relieved. "Good. I'm glad." She smiled at John then patted his shoulder. "I'll talk to Carson. He's still not happy about your weight so I'm sure you'll hear about that, but I'll make sure he releases you to your room today."

John nodded. "Thanks." Then he turned on his side, his back facing Elizabeth, hoping she would get the hint. He felt angry and scared and frustrated and he just wanted to be alone. A moment later he heard footsteps receding. John felt the sting of tears and closed his eyes. He was such a fucking mess.

OoO

The next few days became as much of a routine as everything else had. John went back to his room. He answered his check-ins, ate whatever Beckett told him to eat. Ronon and Teyla visited him. Rodney did not. John went to his lab every day only to have Rodney tell him he was busy. So he would spend all his free time, barring the two hour daily sessions with Heightmeyer, playing with Lily. Feeding her and bathing her, even changing her diaper kept John focused on the prize.

At night he accepted the sleeping pills Beckett offered, although by the end of the first week he had weaned himself off them. John didn't sleep as well then but he knew he had to be drug free if he wanted to get back to himself and, eventually, back to his job.

He did well enough that at the end of two weeks, Kate spoke to Beckett and John lost his guard at night. He slept a bit better once he was alone again, although he tended to dream a lot, reliving moments of his life he preferred to regret. Images of people he knew before Atlantis and since coming here. But they were demons John could deal with. What bothered him more was the sadness and fear and anger that woke him up some nights. Woke him up and sent him into the corner, shaking and slicked in a cold sweat. He didn't tell anyone about that because he knew it wouldn't help him get his life back. He had battled other demons, he would battle the new ones as well.

Until tonight. Tonight John slipped out of his room and made it out onto the same balcony where he had overdosed. He climbed onto the railing, sitting on it carefully, lifting his face to the cool, night air. He felt so sad and so lost and lonely. He felt as if something was missing. He missed Rodney but that was a different kind of ache. He knew Rodney was still mad at him but they would get past that. Just today they had sat together at breakfast and Rodney had even scoffed at one of John's jokes. And after supper they had both played with Lily. It had been a good night.

Which was why John could not understand why he wanted it all to end. He wanted to make what he was feeling go away. He wanted to stop the earth and get off.

His hands clutched the top rail, knuckles white with tension. John fought with his inner demons, even as finger after finger uncurled its grip. He raged against his own weakness even as he tipped forward, sliding off into the night. Something inside him twisted and John knew this was wrong. He threw one hand back, hoping to grip the rail and stop his fall but his fingers slipped. It was too late.

John closed his eyes and prepared to die, only in the moment something grabbed his arm and yanked him back, nearly dislocating his shoulder. Then an arm was around his waist and John found firm ground beneath his feet only to have his knees give out. Black spots danced before his eyes and just before darkness claimed him, he saw Ronon's face.

**THE END...of part 32**


	33. Chapter 33

AN: Oh my, there was a lot of screen screams, head banging and shouts at us! Didn't we say we were evil...mmmmm, yes, yes we did say we were evil... **  
**

**Not the Daddy…part 33**

**Pregnancy clock: 6 weeks postpartum**

"_He never should've been left alone!" _

"_Elizabeth, even Kate said her findings didn't match up to suicidal behavior, I bloody well can't explain what the devil he was doing, but it doesn't make sense!"_

"_What doesn't make sense is why my second in command is in there, lying in that bed, from another attempted suicide, when everyone else let him! Where was his -"_

John could dimly hear the argument taking place somewhere away from him, and he wanted to tell them to stop – that it wasn't their fault – but he just didn't care enough to get his eyes open and face the world. He knew where he was, and why, and as much as it pissed him off, he was also ashamed of it.

He remembered letting go of the rail, remembered falling and desperately trying to grab on before it was too late – and then it had been too late. He had known in that instant that he was going to die, and he didn't even know why. He wasn't suicidal – really wasn't. But he was the only one who knew it, and then he had gone and spoken louder through actions than thoughts, and none of it made any damn sense at all. If he couldn't make heads or tails of it, how could he expect anyone else to?

Tugging at his arms, he wasn't surprised to feel the restraints. Nothing surprised him anymore.

"Sheppard?"

"Rodney?" This time he did open his eyes.

McKay was in the chair, always the damn chair, and when John got out of here this time, he was going to throw the thing over the balcony. Then maybe he'd quit waking up to find his friends torturing themselves by waiting at his bedside. He didn't deserve it.

Rodney was watching him, and the earlier depression and flatness that McKay had been wallowing in was gone, and now his eyes sparked with anger. Sheppard wished he could disappear and not face that anger, even while he knew that McKay wasn't going to let him.

"Do you need anything? A gun, maybe? Because these pathetic attempts are beginning to grow old. If you're so intent on finishing it, then let's do it."

John blinked in the face of the ferocity. He'd expected McKay's anger, his heat, his fury – but this carefully controlled coldness took him by surprise, and hurt, badly. John knew he could return Rodney's anger with his own – god knows, he was probably more angry over recent events than anyone else had a right to be, but he couldn't deny what he'd done. He could do a lot of things, but none of them would undo what he HAD done. Instead of shouting, and railing, or turning away, Sheppard startled himself by admitting, "I don't want to finish it." The admitting wouldn't have been so bad, but his voice had come out broken, and weary - pitiful.

"Really? Because the pills and alcohol, and the dive off the balcony, they're saying differently." McKay was as coldly furious as a mountain blizzard.

"No, listen to me, McKay," John tried to lean towards Rodney – tried to eek out some warmth from the man who was more than his friend, because he needed it more than he needed to breathe right now, "Something's wrong, and I don't know what, but this isn't me – I don't want to die. I promise, I'm not lying." Desperately, he all but begged Rodney to believe him.

But McKay wasn't on the same line, or maybe he was, and he didn't want to believe. "You're right, something is wrong." Gone was the anger directed at John, and in it's place, Rodney focused it in on himself, and bitterly he continued, "we let you down, not once, but twice – if Ronon hadn't taken to shadowing you, I'd be looking at you in a body bag."

Rodney's voice was starting to shake, his body rigid and painful for Sheppard to look at it, but he felt he owed McKay the right to keep watching, and not look away. Maybe it was a way to punish himself for causing Rodney this pain.

McKay kept talking, oblivious to the damage it did to John with each word. "Do you have any idea what that's like? Knowing that one second more, and you wouldn't be here?"

Rodney's control snapped with that final declaration, and he dropped his face into his hands, pulling his eyes off John's stony face, taking ragged breaths, and all John could do was lie there and feel utterly helpless…and full of blame.

Sheppard had been on the verge of crying more than a few times lately, but now…now he did. He cried inside, where no one could see – quietly, painfully, and privately. After everything he'd been through, to land at this place – now. He had everything to live for, and nothing to die for, so why was this happening? Why did he have no control?

"I…don't," he took a steadying breath and tried again, "Rodney – I can't explain it, but I need you to believe in me, please? We've been through a lot together, and you've always trusted me. Trust me now – I'm not doing this willingly."

Lifting his head out of his hands, Rodney shook his head slowly. "Who does? The fact is, whether you want to or not, you are. We…_I_…gave you space, I thought it was okay, and everyone did what you wanted – and you almost died because of it. When you get out of here, I'm moving in, and we're going to get you through this, do you understand?" Rodney's eyes blazed with the fervor of his cause. "I'm not going to lose you. I'm just not. If trusting you means losing you, then I'm sorry, but I can't."

The soft speech was so out of character for Rodney, that John realized just how much damage had been done. He started to say something, but McKay shook his head again at him.

Reluctantly, he kept his mouth shut. He let his eyes drift down, and tried to imagine this was all a bad dream, and he'd wake up, with everything like it was before. But then he wondered what before he'd want to see? Before Lily, before Eradia, before he'd swallowed those pills?

Not before Lily, he knew that with certainty, and that knowledge provided some small amount of comfort.

He was withdrawing in on himself, giving McKay the space he obviously needed, while trying to come to grips with what was going on, when a commotion shocked him back into alertness.

The infirmary doors were opening, and there were a lot of shouts while a team rushed in – a lot of people converged on a gurney being pushed quickly to the trauma area, and then Ronon – why was Ronon following so closely?

Sheppard thought hard but all he could come up with was Teyla, but Teyla wasn't on any missions, so why would she be hurt?

"Rodney?" he asked, confused.

McKay was getting to his feet, growing pale, and Sheppard saw his eyes lock with Ronon's and knew that Rodney understood what was happening, but that left him still not knowing. "Who is it?" he tried again, louder and stronger, his need to find out growing with each second.

"Dreya."

McKay didn't look at him. He was watching the team working frantically to save the life on the bed, and he looked as pole axed in the gut as Sheppard felt.

With startling clarity, everything snapped into reality, and Sheppard felt almost dizzy with the realization. He hadn't been the suicidal one, Dreya had, and now she was lying there dying, and John had failed to be what he was supposed to be, the buffer for her and Lily, and if she died, he'd never forgive himself – sonofabitch! He'd known he wasn't suicidal, had known something was wrong, but why didn't he think that it was her?

How could he have been so blind, and stupid?

Pulling against the restraints, he panicked. He needed to go to her, be there, and keep her fighting – "God damn it, let me out!" he swore…with each second he felt his anxiety creep higher and higher.

Rodney managed to tear his eyes off the unfolding drama, and saw what Sheppard was doing. "I – I'm sorry -" he stuttered, freezing from the impact of understanding.

John stopped fighting against the bonds, and closed his eyes, trying to gather some semblance of control. After he'd gathered himself, he opened his eyes, and fixed McKay in his sights. "I'm not blaming you, Rodney, but let me go – I need to be with her."

McKay acted as if on autopilot, tugging the Velcro restraints off one wrist and then the other, but Sheppard was already pushing forward and helping, only succeeding in tangling in each others hands before he was finally free.

Stumbling from the fatigue from the past two suicide attempts, and subsequent treatments, he almost fell on his face, but a hand from Rodney kept him upright, and together they closed the distance to her bed, watching as Beckett snapped orders.

She was unresponsive, and John couldn't keep his hand from reaching to touch her face. A nurse glared because he was in the way, but when he felt warmth on his fingertips, he started breathing again.

Carson's notice extended to them. "Colonel, get back to your bed, before you collapse and I'll have two patients to deal with – Rodney, what are you thinking, get him out of here!" the doctor swore at them both.

Rodney tugged at his arm, and John shook him off. "No, I can help – let me stay, please." John pierced Beckett with a soul wrenching look. "This is my fault, Doc. I should've recognized the bond for what it was, what it meant, maybe my being here will help."

Beckett was shaking his head and mumbling to himself, but he didn't order Sheppard removed. Rodney brought him a chair, and John dropped thankfully into it, getting as close as he could, and taking Dreya's free arm, the one they weren't poking full of holes and machinery, and lifted it to his forehead. The touch seemed like the right thing to do.

"I'm sorry, god, I'm so sorry…you've got to stay." He found the words just falling from his lips and John didn't even know why he was talking.

At some point, he gleaned enough to know that they'd gotten her stabilized, and that she'd overdosed on pills. Watching as Beckett had her stomach pumped made him shudder, knowing that the same thing had played out days before, but with him being the one lying there.

Why hadn't they made the connection? The bond had been out in the front for so long, maybe they'd just figured it wasn't an essential part of anything after the baby was born. He sure hadn't felt much from it since then, his own emotions had being overwhelming enough that John didn't think he would've been able to figure out hers from his in those first few weeks after, anyway.

But on Eradia, he'd felt the first stirrings of suicidal thoughts, and he'd been too shocked, and even embarrassed to speak up. If he had, things wouldn't be like they were now, which was a total disaster.

"It's not your fault," Ronon said.

Sheppard didn't meet the runner's eyes. "It is my fault," he argued.

"No," Ronon countered. "If anyone's, it's ours. When the mind isn't right, it's up to your friends to find the truth. We missed the truth, Sheppard – not you. You were affected by the bond."

"He's right," agreed Rodney. "I can't believe I missed this. I didn't think…the bond lasts for a full moon after the birth, that would be about now on Eradia."

"Fine," snapped Sheppard. "You guys want to join the guilty club, there's plenty of room, now shut up." The uncharacteristic loss of temper could only be blamed on how crappy he was suddenly feeling. The chair was too hard, the lights too bright, the noise – too loud. Everything was starting to overwhelm him, and John wanted to be left alone.

Sheppard could see now that Dreya was going to make it. Carson had finished pumping her stomach, and now she was sleeping it off, just like he'd been after his attempt. John could see Beckett conferring with another doctor over her test results, but his easy stance told Sheppard all he needed to know. She'd been saved, and that was all that mattered.

Inwardly, he knew it wasn't over for either of them. The bond was almost finished – if not already. Maybe that's why she finally did it. The bond had transferred the worst of her feelings to him, and he'd sought the only answer his mind could give, an end to it…but if the bond had begun to wane, she would've been left to cope on her own, and resorted to the pills, just as he had. Why weren't the pills locked up?

But somehow he knew that just because the reason for his actions was staring them all in the face, they weren't going to walk away and pat him on the back with a 'your fine, now', because he knew he wasn't. Whether it was induced by the bond or not, John had tried to kill himself – twice. That knowledge alone shook him to the core.

And now he had to deal with the guilt over Dreya's attempted suicide, and what would've happened if they'd been too late…

"You found her," John said to Ronon. "You knew." His mercurial temper was subdued again.

"I had a hunch," Ronon answered casually.

"Thank god for hunches," he murmured. "Cause you seem to be having them at the right time."

The runner had been saving him a lot, and now he'd saved Dreya. He'd earned his Wheaties.

"And you, Colonel, should be in bed."

Beckett startled him. He looked away from Ronon, and frowned at the stern visage of Carson.

"I'm fine."

He didn't even know why he said it. They'd been butting heads entirely too much lately, and he knew Carson was only doing it because he cared, and because it was his job, but probably more because he cared than the other – yet, still John argued the obvious.

Rodney snorted behind him. "I'll take him back, Carson."

"Before I go, she'll be okay, right?" He needed to know.

Beckett folded his arms in the way that screamed 'I'm strictly business now' before nodding. "Aye, she'll make it, thanks to Ronon, but she'll be sick for a day or so, and I'll be starting her on some antidepressants. If I didn't think the bond was all but over, you'd be joining her, but as it is, she'll be seeing Kate and the medications…it should help."

And Doc was looking all kinds of guilt, making Sheppard almost feel sorry for the man. But there was a small part inside him that was still railing at all the crap that he'd had to go through, and felt a small flash of satisfaction at someone else feeling like hell.

He felt McKay pulling his arm off the chair, "Time for bed, Sheppard," Rodney instructed, the only thing clueing John in to Rodney's still off-kilter state was the edge of kindness to McKay's normally harsh tone.

John reluctantly let himself be led back to the bed, and he stared at the restraints with barely concealed disgust. "I want to go back to my bed," he suddenly said. He couldn't face sleeping here. The restraints were a constant reminder of what had happened, and what hadn't happened.

McKay frowned at him. "This is your bed."

"My room," Sheppard hissed, looking over his shoulder and seeing that Beckett was gone.

"Carson will kill me." But McKay was considering it. Finally, he shrugged, and handed John the robe by the bed. "Fine, but like I said, I'm moving in, and you're just going to have to deal with it."

"I don't need -" John started to protest, but Rodney lifted his eyebrow at him.

"Yes, you do," McKay said. "Bond or no bond, you tried to kill yourself, and now Dreya's done it as well. You can't stand there and tell me you aren't affected. Even if you did, I wouldn't believe you. Remember you asked me to trust you, and I said if losing you was what it meant, then I couldn't – I wasn't kidding. I don't trust you…not yet. It was the bond, but it was also you. You didn't stop it, Sheppard. You didn't call me, you didn't ask for help, you just did it, and I'm sorry, but I'm not giving you the chance to do it again."

John sighed, seeing hopes of being treated normal go flying out the window. He took the robe and shrugged into it. His eyes drifted back to the bed with the restraints, then to Rodney. It really sucked when both choices were equally bad, but ultimately one would be worse than the other, and having Rodney stick to him like bad dryer lint was better than getting into that bed with the restraints and bad memories.

"You'll get your way, but Rodney – if you snore, I will hit you, and I want to stop and see Lily."

McKay's grin was almost worth agreeing for. "I don't snore, and fine, but you get to change her diaper, that's disgusting…"

As they snuck out of the infirmary, John knew there'd be hell to pay when Beckett caught up with them. But sometimes, the price was worth paying.

TBC


	34. Chapter 34

AN: Sorry for the wait, I know we've spoiled you all with the rapid updates but it's nearing the end so hang in there!**  
**

**NOT THE DADDY...part 34**

**Pregnancy clock: 7 weeks postpartum**

They went to visit Lily. Teyla was there, trying to rock her to sleep, but she wasn't having it. She was fretful and unhappy and Teyla looked relieved to see John.

"I'll take her," he said, reaching for his daughter.

Teyla handed Lily over without complaint, relinquishing her spot in the rocking chair and urging John into it. She eyed him with concern as he settled back and began rocking. "Are you not supposed to be in the infirmary?"

Rodney answered her. "Yes, he is, and Beckett is going to have my hide for helping him escape, but he insisted. However, I'm not letting him out of my sight. Once I can tear him away from Lily I'm taking him straight to his room and, trust me, he will sleep if I have to knock him out to do it."

"_**He **_is sitting right here," John countered sharply, but there was no real sting in his tone and he never lifted his eyes from Lily's face. She had curled into him and was peaceful now, sleeping in the way only babies can sleep. John had learned that from watching her do so for countless hours.

"She's asleep," Rodney said, stating the obvious as he moved to John's side. He watched for a moment then said, "Time for you to go to bed, Colonel."

John shook his head. "Not yet. I want to hold her for a while."

Rodney heaved a frustrated sigh, folding his arms over his chest before glaring at John. "Don't be stupid...you know you need to rest."

"I know." John wasn't going to argue that point, mainly because he was exhausted right into his very soul. But he knew he couldn't sleep right now. He couldn't close his eyes and risk dreaming. "I'm too wound up to sleep right now, Rodney. Just give me a few minutes." He was practically begging and he didn't care.

"Okay." Rodney was watching him through a narrowed gaze but he seemed to understand what John needed. "But only for a few minutes then you are going to bed."

John managed a crooked gin. "Yes, mom," he drawled.

Teyla touched his shoulder. "I know that you are very unsettled now, John. But you must take care of yourself."

"I'm okay, Teyla," John replied, hoping to reassure her. But he saw doubt in her beautiful eyes, a reflection of the doubt he carried inside him. John lowered his gaze back to his daughter's face and he blinked hard as his vision began to blur. He felt Teyla move away, Rodney fading into the background as well, as John began to hum a lullaby. He finished it through then bent his head to brush a kiss to Lilly's forehead and a smile seemed to curve her sweet little mouth. John decided to take that as a sign that she liked the song and so he hummed it again, over and over until it echoed in his head.

"Colonel."

John started, arms curling Lily into him protectively, only to realize that it was Rodney talking to him. John had lost track of where he was for a moment.

Rodney looked concerned. "It's time to go to bed."

"Okay." John felt the weight of his exhaustion now and he didn't want to risk causing harm to Lily, so he handed her over to Teyla. Resisting the urge to snatch her right back, John pushed himself out of the rocking chair only to have his knees buckle. He tried to catch himself but his vision was graying out. He felt strong hands catch him and John tried to say that he was alright but his tongue was thick in his mouth and his eyelids felt like lead weights. Everything faded to black.

He didn't see Rodney turn pale and cry out. He didn't feel Ronon catch him then lift him into his arms. He didn't know he was carried to his room and put to bed, or that both Ronon and Rodney watched over him as he slept.

He only knew that his darkness was cold and filled with shadows that morphed into ghosts that taunted him with memories he wanted only to forget.

OoO

Images collided in John's head. Dreams and realities intertwined, memories blurred or faded away only to be replaced with sharp reminders of his life, both past and present. Good and bad warred inside him, shaking him, twisting his insides and throbbing through him, anchoring itself in his thoughts and spreading out into stabbing aches in his temples that eventually brought him awake.

He didn't remember where he was.

"Easy, Colonel."

He knew that voice. A soft brogue then a firm hand on his shoulder, fingers sliding down his arm to curl around his wrist. Beckett. John blinked and brought the other man's face into focus. "W-water..." he croaked. And, thankfully, Beckett eased him up and held the glass for him. When John settled back into the pillows, he realized he was in his room. Now he remembered what had happened and panic flared through him. "Dreya?"

Carson patted his shoulder this time. "She's fine, son. Resting. Doing much better today."

"I have to see her." John was already tugging back the covers and sitting up reminded him that he needed to pee.

"You can see her later!" Carson's tone was sharp and brooked no argument. "You need to rest as well."

John glared at him, smacking away the hand that tried to hold him down. "I need to use the bathroom!"

Carson glared back a moment, locking eyes with John as he searched for the truth. Then he nodded and gripped his bicep, pulling John to his feet with regrettable ease.

The trip to the bathroom was long and exhausting. John took care of business, debated a shower, realized he was too tired to give a damn and settled for splashing cold water on his face. It did nothing to ease his weariness, which had settled upon him like a cloak weighed down with lead. A knock on the door and Beckett was there, clucking with concern and reaching in to pull him out and guide him back to bed. John was grateful for his help. He curled up on his side, willing himself to relax as the blankets were settled over him again. They were thick and warm but he couldn't seem to rid himself of the chill that radiated out from deep inside him. "Is Dreya going to be okay?" John asked. Because he really needed to know. He needed to understand what had happened. He needed to prepare himself and to make sure it never happened again.

"She will be," Carson replied, after a moment of hesitation. "It's going to take time is all. And she'll have all the help she needs."

"I should have helped her," John mumbled.

Carson made a sharp sound of disbelief, then he was crouching next to the bed and locking eyes with John again. "Don't you go be blaming yourself for what happened, Colonel. If anyone is to blame...I am. I'm the doctor. I should have seen this coming and I should have realized what was affecting you to begin with."

John sighed heavily and closed his eyes, not wanting now to see the guilt in Beckett's eyes. He had enough guilt for them all. "You're not an OBGYN," John whispered. "It's not your field of expertise and nothing that's happened with me or Dreya is anything anyone was prepared to deal with."

"True enough," Carson allowed, then he cleared his throat nervously. "Keep that in mind, Colonel, when your castigating yourself."

"I felt it, doc." John peeled bleary eyes open and dared the other man to challenge him on this. "I'm not suicidal...I should have known what was happening."

Carson shook his head. "You're not to blame, Colonel...let it go."

John didn't have the energy to argue with him. "The bond should be gone by now, shouldn't it?"

"More or less," Carson allowed. "I've spoken about it with Dreya a few times and there's no specific time frame. It doesn't just end abruptly. It seems to fade away, or so she's observed in the past. So it could linger for a time."

"Lucky me." John let his eyes close again. He was so damn tired, but his thoughts were too loud and banging around in his head. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep.

Carson shuffled around a bit then he was back beside John and saying, "I'm going to give you something to help you rest. Just a pinch and then you'll sleep for a time."

John felt like weeping in relief when he felt the pull into oblivion.

OoO

Rodney hadn't been kidding about moving in with John and, to John's disbelief, Beckett and Weir backed him up about it. And no argument that John presented swayed any one of them. So he found himself dealing with a room mate, who was a slob and who absolutely did snore and John wasn't sure how he really felt about it. Sometimes, at night, he was glad Rodney was there. But sometimes it was hard to keep quiet when his demons woke him up at night. Which was every one of the four nights that Rodney had been with him so far.

John sought relief from his life with Lily. He spent pretty much every waking moment of his day with her and, one night, he even slipped out of his room to watch her sleep. Lingering next to her bassinet until a rumpled and pissed off Rodney showed up to drag him back to bed.

John spent a lot of time with Dreya, too. He apologized to her every time he saw her and it was almost comical because she would apologize right back then they would fall into a an awkward silence for a time until Lily, who was always with them because they always met up in the nursery, would do something like coo at them or cry for attention and then they were bonded in their love for their daughter. Which was a kick ass reminder to John, on a daily basis, that he was a father now. That one more person, this one more tiny and helpless than any other on Atlantis, needed him to protect her. Needed him to do his job.

Which was the only reason why, when Kate came to ask him to join Dreya in her sessions, that John finally agreed. Kate had told him that Dreya needed the support from someone who understood what she was going through. At that point John, angrily, had stated that he didn't understand at all because he wasn't suicidal, and that he was just there for moral support.

Oddly enough it was Rodney who blasted him for being a liar. It turned into one hell of an argument.

"I was talking to Dreya," Rodney had begun, innocently enough.

"About?" John prompted, because he knew Rodney was leading up to something. Knew from the moment he had suggested a chess match and then had totally ignored the game, making sloppy moves. Rodney was never sloppy or distracted during chess. Especially not since the first time John beat him.

Rodney pushed his chair away from the table and one leg began to thump up and down, betraying his nervousness. "Well...about you and how you won't talk in the sessions. How you're in denial about everything." Rodney's words came out in a rush and he looked like he was ready to bolt.

John moved away from the table as well, so he wouldn't upset the chess board. His hands clenched into fists and he almost had to sit on them to keep from taking a swing. Anger welled up and spilled out and John glared at Rodney. A 'melt you into a puddle of goo' kind of glare but, to Rodney's credit, he didn't haul ass and run. "I'm not in denial about anything!" John grated out.

"Bullshit." Rodney almost whispered the word.

"And for your information, I don't talk in the sessions because I'm there for moral support. It's not about me." John managed to control his temper, to speak softly, but the effort was making his jaw clench until he was practically gritting his teeth.

Rodney shook his head. "You can't keep doing this, Colonel. You can't keep lying to yourself."

John stared at Rodney in disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about? Lying to myself about what?"

"You tried to kill yourself...twice. You can't keep pretending it didn't happen." Rodney was on his feet now, anger smoldering from his own eyes. "You have to stop pretending that you're okay. You have to accept what you did and deal with it. Otherwise you're going to be stuck in limbo! Is that what you want?"

"What I want is for you to get the hell out of my room!" John was on his feet as well and he was just about ready to shove Rodney out the door.

Rodney didn't budge. "I'm not going anywhere, Colonel. Not until you face the truth!"

John felt pain stab at his temples. He unclenched his fists to rub his head, trying desperately to resist the urge to punch Rodney's lights out. "You know what, Rodney? I think you're the one who's fucked up. Dreya is the one who was suicidal! Not me! I was projecting HER depression and you know it!"

"What I know is that you didn't try to stop yourself, Colonel." Rodney dared to take a step closer, his eyes almost shooting sparks as he confronted John. "You could have told anyone what you were feeling. We would have helped you and you know it. But you didn't. Instead you stole pills and booze and went off onto an isolated balcony to off yourself."

"I couldn't control that!" John protested, and the pain was spreading, clamping around the base of his skull like a vise.

Rodney took another step closer and he lowered his voice, which became hoarse with emotion. "You're the strongest person I know...and a fighter. But you gave up. You didn't even try to fight."

John shook his head. "No...you're wrong! I didn't want to die, Rodney! I just couldn't stop myself!"

"Because a part of you was tired and you didn't want to fight," Rodney countered, and now he reached out and poked John in the chest with one finger to make his point. "You...gave...up!" That said, Rodney turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

"Sonofabitch!" John turned and lashed out with one arm, sweeping the chess board off the table and scattering pieces everywhere. Then he stormed out of the room and started running. He ran until he reached the very balcony where he had, twice, nearly ended his life.

Moving to sit stuff in one corner, John tried to catch his breath but his chest felt tight and his head ached and his mind was cluttered with conflicting thoughts and emotions. He didn't know how long he sat there before he rose stiffly, returned to his room to shower and change, then he went to see Lily.

Teyla was with her but gave her up to John the moment he entered the nursery. She smiled at him, asked how he was and John wasn't sure what he replied. He felt numb. But he must have said the right thing because Teyla excused herself, but before she reached the door, John called her back.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Teyla turned back to face him.

John cleared his throat, uncertain how to form his question. Uncertain if he really wanted to ask. But then Lily made a cooing sound and when John looked down at her sweet face, he knew he had to do this. "Do you think I wanted to die? I mean...do you think some of what happened...what I felt when I tried to kill myself...that it was me and not Dreya?" John realized he was wording it badly, but he could see by the look on Teyla's face that she understood what he was asking.

Looking uncomfortable, but determined, Teyla moved to John. When she reached him she touched his arm then smiled softly. "I think that you have experienced things that no one is meant to endure. Things that happened before coming here, when you were still on Earth. And I know the hardships you have encountered since coming to Atlantis. You are battling emotions that are not your own, it is trial enough for a person to deal with their own doubts and fears. Their own ghosts and guilt. I think that you are tired and weary of the fight."

"Is that a yes or a no?" John prompted, because he needed to hear her say it, even though he knew what her answer would be.

"I think that you wanted to rest," Teyla said softly. She reached up and cupped his face, drawing his head down to touch her own forehead.

John didn't move for a moment, accepting the comfort she offered. Then he pulled away and nodded at her. "Rodney thinks I need to talk to Heightmeyer."

Teyla looked thoughtful. "You believed she could help me and she did, John. I believe she could do the same for you." With that Teyla said goodnight, drifting out the door.

"You're daddy is a mess, sweetheart," John whispered to Lily, as he moved to the rocking chair and sat down. He cradled her against his chest then hummed her favorite lullaby, wanting to just drift in this moment without having to do anything more than love the precious bundle in his arms.

OoO

John didn't go back to his room that night. He wandered the corridors of Atlantis after Lily fell asleep. He didn't have his radio with him so he didn't hear Rodney paging him until Elizabeth went public and then he felt a flare of anger for being made to feel like a recalcitrant child.

When John returned to his room it was to find Elizabeth waiting for him instead of Rodney. John tried to be polite but he was too angry. He blew off her concerns, stating he was tired and wanted to go to bed. Elizabeth made a quiet exit and John stripped down to boxers and his tee shirt and slid into bed. He was still away three hours later when Rodney came in, but he pretended to be asleep. He was up before dawn and wandering the halls again until it was time for his daily check up with Beckett.

John wanted to ask the doc if he agreed with Rodney's belief that he was suicidal but before he got the chance Beckett blasted him about his weight and John flew off the handle at him and stormed out.

An hour later Ronon found him in Puddle Jumper one, hiding out.

"Mind if I join you?" the Satedan asked, even as he was already folding his large frame into the co pilot's seat.

"Feel like going for a ride?" John countered, firing up the engine.

Ronon shrugged. "You're going to get in trouble."

John shrugged back. "That's not what I asked you."

Ronon smirked. "Where are we going?"

"Mainland." Sweeping one hand over the control panel, John made the bay doors above them open. A heartbeat later they were flying through the perfect blue sky.

**THE END...of part 34**


	35. Chapter 35

**AN:** Here we are, at the end. There's a lot of things I'd love to say, but it'd probably take forever, and since I'm only one of the two author's posting I won't drone on and on, but I do have to say a few things. First off, this fic was merlin's idea (Shelly), and a very brilliant concept it is, and has been. She came to me with the idea, and we started bouncing ideas off each other as we went along, neither one of us really grasping how massive and detailed we'd take this story. But more importantly, the comments and support from those of you who left reviews, emailed comments, and even said 'good job' kept us going. There were some comments that really made us think more about where we were taking the story, or gave us an idea we hadn't considered, and some comments that made us look back and address things we left out. Some of you responded in depth and one of you got the continuing plot dead on (Laura-Trekkie I believe gets that honor), so that was pretty amazing and fun to see. So, this is getting long winded and I'll wrap it up, but more than anything just a huge big thank you for not only giving this story a chance, and for letting us know how you felt along the way. The sequel will be starting soon and after you read the end, I'm sure you'll be wanting to strangle us! And on that note, goodbye, so long and see you soon!**  
**

**Not the Daddy…part 35**

**Pregnancy clock: The End**

"He did what?" exploded Weir.

"What are you yelling at me for?" McKay was standing to the side of Beckett, and matching Elizabeth's anger pulse beat by pulse beat. "It sure as hell wasn't my idea!"

Weir clenched her hands so tight the skin whitened. "You expect me to believe that you didn't know he was taking a Jumper out?" she said, but she'd lowered her voice a few notches. "Rodney, you've been practically glued to John since the last suicide attempt."

Carson decided it might be the time to intervene, because McKay was looking a little purple. "Elizabeth, Rodney was with me when Colonel Sheppard…left." Beckett almost said escape, and wasn't that appropriate. "He was asking some questions pertaining to the colonel's health."

McKay took Beckett's interruption to heart, and came down a few levels of confrontational before grudgingly saying, "Anyway, he's got Ronon with him. The man is his own singular army, Elizabeth, Sheppard couldn't be safer than a baby in his mother's arms."

Elizabeth's hands relaxed slightly. "Carson?"

Was it okay, she was essentially asking the doctor – "Physically, he's recovered, mentally…" trailing off, Beckett looked uneasily at Rodney, and Weir got the impression this had been the topic of their conversation when Sheppard had snatched a Jumper – and Ronon – before taking off for the mainland without permission.

"Mentally he's got some things to face," Elizabeth guessed, finishing for him.

Rodney's snort wasn't lost on anyone.

"That's if he will, and I always thought I was stubborn and annoying."

Elizabeth frowned his way, "Rodney…"

McKay held his hands up. "I know, not helping."

"No," she confirmed. Turning her attention back to Beckett, she asked, "So, do I let him come back on his own or send a team to retrieve the colonel?"

Beckett considered the question for a few moments before answering, "Give him some time, some space, Elizabeth. Maybe getting away from the city, with the one person who seems to have understood the ramifications better than any of us, will help." He smiled self-depreciatingly, "At least, I'd venture, it won't do any worse than what we've done."

"Rodney?" she arched her eyebrow at him questioningly.

He sighed, and folded his arms, clearly unhappy with the recommendation, but at the same time accepting it for what it was, probably the truth. "Fine, do as Beckett suggests, besides," he paused irritably for effect, "he's probably right, though I doubt I'll ever have reason to say that again."

The dirty look from Beckett wasn't lost on him, but all Rodney cared about was getting Sheppard through this bump in the road…

OoO

Sheppard was breathing hard, and his legs burned from the physical effort. After landing the Jumper, Ronon had shown him a rough trail that wound up a steep cliff. Ronon had thought maybe the hike would do him good, but now John was second guessing his decision to go along with the idea.

He paused, resting a hand on a knee, trying to catch his breath. "You sure this is worth it?" he asked.

Ronon looked over his shoulder, and stopped his upward climb, not even sweating. "Teyla showed it to me when you were on bed rest, it's worth it."

Bed rest. The unwelcome reminder of what had brought him here to this point. "You could at least pretend to be tired," he grouched. The months of limited activity had taken their toll on his level of fitness.

Ronon shrugged. "Why?"

"Because," he started to say, scowling at the Satedan's back, but then realized the runner had a point. "Never mind," he finished irritably. "Lead on, McDuff."

"McDuff?"

John sighed. "It's an Earth thing."

"I'm not from Earth."

The Satedan still glanced over his shoulder at Sheppard, and he almost thought the runner was intentionally needling him now, but as they continued to climb, he lost the ability to care. He really was out of shape.

"Yeah," he sucked air in, "I remember."

Was there a top to the trail? John tried to look beyond Ronon, but when he did, his boots slid on the rocky trail, and he almost fell. Catching his balance, he tried to hide his mistake by straightening fast. "Nice day," he said conversationally, trying to pretend he'd meant to almost be flat on his back staring at the sky.

Ronon nodded knowingly. "Yeah, warm, though." He paused a minute and looked down at John, "You need to stop?"

"No, I'm good," John replied quickly. He inflected a false surety for good measure.

Just then, Ronon's height difference leveled out, as he crested the peak of the cliff, and Sheppard stumbled up behind him.

"You're not a good liar," confided Dex before adding, "Good view, though."

"I can lie," Sheppard countered with an edge of defensiveness, which was stupid, who wants to insist to others that they can be an accomplished liar, and really, he couldn't – well, big lies, to enemies and bad guys and stuff, he could, but not little white lies to his friends, he sucked at those pretty bad. And he didn't like to admit it, because it made him as see-through as McKay, in a different way.

Ronon just looked sideways at him in a way that clearly transmitted 'keep deluding yourself'.

Isn't that what he'd been doing? Deluding himself? Saying the attempted suicides were all from Dreya and the bond, and John Sheppard would never have resorted to anything that desperate, even at his lowest?

John sighed, and transferred his attention to the view. The ocean shores that he'd seen scouting in the Jumper lay below, tormenting the broken rocks that had sheered from the cliffs over eons of erosion. It was breathtaking, transfixing…primal and scary. It was a long drop. He inhaled deeply and tasted the salt in the air.

Lost in his thoughts, Sheppard found himself asking aloud. "I don't know, am I deluding myself?" He reached down and lifted a small pebble, tossing it a couple of times and feeling the jagged edges, before lobbing it over the edge. He turned and acknowledged Ronon, "McKay thinks I need to talk to Kate, thinks there was a part of me that went along with Dreya's suicidal urges because of my own baggage."

Ronon picked up a much larger rock, hefted it a few times to gauge its weight, before tossing it over, the same trajectory as John's. "McKay's smart, Sheppard. You've said so yourself."

John watched the rock fall. He picked up another and nodded at Ronon. "Did you know my small rock, and your big rock, they make the trip down in the same time? McKay tried to explain it to me. Something about y equals one-half x squared, and a v, there's a v in there somewhere, but no mass – mass isn't relevant, unless there's significant drag from up high." He actually knew exactly what the equation was, but Rodney had thought it was amusing to teach the pilot new tricks, and he hadn't wanted to ruin McKay's fun.

"You didn't come out here to throw rocks, Sheppard."

Blunt arrow to the heart of the matter, that was Ronon. "Maybe I did," John argued. "Maybe that's exactly why I'm here." Throwing rocks was cathartic. There was just something satisfying in holding the aged artifact of the world, and then throwing it with all your might. The added bonus was hearing the spelunk as it hit the ocean surface, not that he could hear it this high up, and anyway, the waves smacking the rock below drowned it out, but he _knew_ it was there.

"Surface waters run deep," Ronon said, lifting another heavy rock. "Sometimes emotions do, too."

That even the runner thought there was truth to Rodney's claims brought John up short…sometimes, if it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it's a duck. John Sheppard hadn't fought harder against Dreya's suicidal thoughts and impulses because there was a small seed inside that had wanted the way out. He'd been running from it, hiding, but you can never run very far from yourself. The old saying about the truth hurts was lame; it didn't just hurt, it burned your soul from time to time.

Shaking his head, he picked up another rock, going for a larger size. The sharp edges scraped the palm of his hand as he took the rock's measure. Savagely, he threw it as straight out as he could. "I hate it when McKay's right." He released the anger that surfaced from facing his truth. "He's going to gloat for days."

Ronon shook his head. "Not this time, Sheppard. Enjoy it."

They spent the next hour watching the ocean churn, and tossing rocks, each one getting progressively larger till Sheppard admitted defeat and couldn't out-heft Ronon. He'd also grown tired, and knew there was the long hike down to look forward to.

By tacit agreement, they both headed for the trail. As Sheppard's boot rolled on a loose rock, and he caught his balance, he sighed. "I guess I might as well get it over with."

"Ship's in one piece, you're in one piece – they can't complain," Ronon offered reassuringly. He also reached a steadying hand for John.

"I'll be sure to tell Elizabeth that," John deadpanned.

Conversation dwindled as the two men had to take care on the downward trek. The trail was steep, and the loose rock made it treacherous if one wasn't paying attention.

They made it safely to the Jumper, and Sheppard guided the sleek craft expertly into the air, angling back home, to Atlantis. He did feel better, remarkably, and as he'd stood on that cliff tossing those rocks, he'd convinced himself to talk to Kate – and not just a pity offering, but really talk. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but he also knew he couldn't keep running from what had happened.

It was just as the city came into visual range, that Sheppard had an inkling that something was very wrong. His entire body suddenly felt afire with pain, and it took everything he had to keep flying the ship.

"Sheppard?"

John's sudden gasping had given him away, not that he was trying to hide it, but damn it hurt. "I don't know," he managed to say. "Hurts, everywhere."

"Sheppard."

Ronon's tone that time wasn't questioning, and John knew it wasn't for him. He forced the pain down deep, and followed the runner's gaze across the horizon. Smoke rose from the city –

"Hang on," swore Sheppard, nudging the Jumper forward with more speed, cursing inside from the now dulling pain. He keyed the radio, "Atlantis, this is Sheppard, what's your status?"

Static greeted his call.

"An accident?" guessed Ronon, but he didn't look convinced.

"I doubt it." Sheppard knew enough about Ancient technology to figure there were enough fail safes to prevent accidental explosions, add in the attempted take-over and the med tech that had attacked him after rifling through Beckett's files, and suddenly John had an icy coldness in the pit of his stomach.

He didn't want to consider what the pain was from…but unbidden to his lips came the name, "Dreya…" and what he didn't say, Lily.

The smoke wasn't thick and black, but it was puffing ominously upwards in wide bands of gray from the central part of the city.

As John maneuvered up above the landing bay, he tried to assess the damage, but the smoke obscured the top portions of the city. Once the ship was landed, he bounded to the hatch, Ronon on his heels.

It was taking all he had to keep the pain subdued so he could move, and he knew something was wrong with either Dreya or Lily. The bond must not have faded enough yet, due to his strong ATA gene he figured, that was his kind of luck.

But he had a duty to the city, the expedition – a lot of people depended on him. Coming to a branch in the corridor, he paused. One way led to the gateroom, the other led to the living quarters and the nursery. John hesitated, torn. Duty came first but Lily and Dreya might need him, correction, they did need him – his body screaming at him confirmed that point.

Ronon pushed him towards the gateroom. "Go, I'll check on Dreya and the baby."

Sheppard caught the runner's eyes, and nodded imperceptibly. Ronon would do what he could. "Thanks," he said softly, before spinning on his heels and taking off for the command center.

As he went, he smelled smoke, but didn't see any damage. When he cleared the ramp, he entered chaos.

"I don't care what it takes, get a rescue team to that infirmary!" Elizabeth shouted into her radio.

Techs were scrambling around, alarms wailing and lights flashing everywhere. John slowed, trying to get his bearings. "Elizabeth?" he asked.

She noticed his presence, and the thinning of her lips even more than they were told him it was bad, and she wasn't happy that he'd been AWOL for whatever had gone down.

"There's been an explosion somewhere around here." She strode over to the city map and circled the area around the infirmary. "We've also received reports that indicate another explosion took place here." This time she pointed towards the living quarters.

"Intentional?" he asked, his voice dangerous and low.

She hesitated, staring soberly at him. And then she nodded, slowly and surely, and he felt the impact of every minute move of her head. "We think so."

"Damn," he swore, stepping forward, but then he stumbled as another spike of pain tore through him. John reached for a chair to keep himself up.

"John?" the anger flipped to concern. "What's wrong?"

She was walking towards him, and he waved her off, gritting his teeth against it. "The bond, at least I think – how bad is it? How many dead, damages?"

Elizabeth stopped. "I don't know. The explosions happened less than twenty minutes ago. Initial reports are still coming in."

"Rodney?" John knew something was wrong with at least Dreya or Lily, but what about McKay – was there a chance he was with Lily at the time of the explosions, or was he in the lab…

She shook her heard again. "I don't know. Communications disrupted, we're getting a lot of overloaded systems."

Think, Sheppard, think – "Damage teams responding?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied.

"Lorne?" Another wave of agony rolled over his nerves and the last part of Lorne's name came out strangled.

Elizabeth's worry was clear. "He's on it, you can take the living quarters explosion -"

She was offering him the option to do what his heart and soul were demanding he do. He stood for a moment, looking up from his pain, and almost afraid to act, and find what his body was telling him he'd find, but she took another step towards him.

Sympathy and emotion vibrated from Weir. "Go, John."

He fixed his jaw, and nodded, before turning to run. She called after him, "Report back!"

"I will!" he shouted over his shoulder.

The bond was burning through his blood, like liquid fire injected into his system. And his heart beat in tune to a need to get to her – but he didn't know if the her was Lily, or Dreya, or both. God help him, he didn't want it to be Lily.

As he neared the living quarters, soot and smoke thickened the atmosphere, and he began to cough and struggle to see. Rubble and debris began to appear. A thick lump began to form in his throat, and hand in hand with the burning in his body, he wanted to turn and run away…it was bad. Worse than he'd thought. Soon he had to start pushing, and pulling, blackened metal out of the way. Personnel were wandering around, some covered in blood, others only in soot. But all of them were shell shocked, stunned –

"The baby?" John shouted at one of the members that seemed more cognizant than others.

The man just shook his head dumbly.

Swearing, John pushed further in. He didn't see Ronon, or McKay, but medical personnel were arriving and helping the wounded.

"Dreya!" he tried to holler over the still wailing alarms. "McKay!"

The door to the nursey was just ahead, and the sick feeling in his gut had everything to do with the warped metal, and puddles of water from the automatic extinguisher systems. The explosion had been close to here. His feet felt leaden, but he forced himself to keep moving.

As he neared the door, he heard the crying of a baby under the din, and almost collapsed then and there from relief. Lily was alive – that was something. The door was listing at an angle, half open, and blackened on the outside.

John climbed around the door, and in to the room, his eyes sweeping for the people he was looking for. Rodney, a dirty bleeding Rodney, cradled Lily in his arms. Ronon was on the floor, a woman's body in his arms – Dreya.

Looking at Rodney first, he saw McKay gently shake his head. Numbly, his mind rebelled – it couldn't be. After going so far –

His legs were weak, and he didn't even know how he made it to Dreya's side, but he dropped to his knees, peering at her in fascination. She didn't look dead, she wasn't, it was a mistake…

John looked up at Ronon, asking him why…why did it happen, even as he took Dreya's limp body from the runner, on to his own lap, falling to his haunches, and then flat on the floor, his back coming to rest against the still warm wall.

"No -" he heard himself deny the truth. "She can't be dead…"

Dreya's sightless eyes staring up at him said otherwise. Death was ugly, and brutal, and there was nothing peaceful about it. Even as he revolted from the truth looking him in the face, he felt the injuries against his legs that had killed her. Blood was still seeping from her torn and shattered back.

Oh, god – it hurt…and not just the physical severing of the bond…Lily's mother was dead in his arms, and he hadn't been able to stop it. He hadn't been able to protect her, even though he'd known something was going down after the take-over attempt and the attack on him earlier.

"Why?" he repeated again, looking at Rodney. "Someone just tell me why?"

"I got here as fast as I could…" Rodney's voice cracked. "She was…" McKay couldn't do it, he held the crying baby tighter, and Sheppard saw McKay's chin wobble as the man fought for control. A few blinks, and an exhaled breath later, McKay continued, "She covered Lily." Rodney's voice was tight and high, and on the verge of completely failing him, "Covered Lily with her own body," he rapidly finished before losing it completely.

Sheppard knew he was staring. Just staring. At McKay…Lily…the destroyed room, and deep down inside something snapped. He looked down again at Dreya, felt the shrapnel sticking out of her back, poking into his legs, and his pants now wet and sticky from her blood. "I'm gonna kill the bastard that did this," he vowed, his voice cold with the promise of death. "I'm gonna find him, and when I do, he'll regret the day he was born, and then he'll regret every single day he lived after that."

Ronon clasped a firm hand on his shoulder, and the runner's brown eyes burned with equal ferocity. "And when you're done, I'll kill him again," he swore.

Sheppard nodded. He slid Dreya's shell off him, because that's all it was now, a shell. "First though, to find out what all this son of a bitch has to answer for." Because it wasn't only Dreya that had died, he was pretty sure of that, and the explosions had been for a purpose.

The bastards had gotten away with it so far. John had been down, and out of the picture because of the pregnancy bond, and complications, but he was back now, and he was pissed…the individual or individuals behind this were going to be rooted out like the cockroaches they were and then…then he'd find the biggest can of Raid, and kill them slowly.

Rodney carried Lily gingerly over the debris, and stepped beside Sheppard and Ronon. His head tilted to the side, still staring at Dreya, and his mouth twisted in pain, both physical and mental. "It had to be our own people – someone that came over on the Daedalus."

Sheppard nodded gravely. "I know."

McKay swallowed from the implication, but gathered himself. "We'll find them," he vowed hollowly. "They might think they're smart, but I'm smarter – we'll find them."

John clambered to his feet, somewhat unsteady, the sudden ending of the bond was rough, and he felt ragged and raw. But he got upright, and he fixed his eyes on his men. "We've got a city to fix," he said tiredly. "Let's go do our job."

And when that job was done, the ones responsible better watch out, because he was coming…

**To Be Continued…**look for the sequel, coming soon!


End file.
